Sherlock's Heart
by R. K. Sprague
Summary: Sherlock encounters a young woman with a sensitive heart that is just what he needs to get close to a child killer. But when she keeps her heart too guarded, Sherlock will have to find a way to open it.
1. First Impressions

Chapter one: First impressions

"How can you not know that?" I said as I looked at the young woman beside me. She merely rolled her eyes and made the next coffee that I had rang up.

"Not all of us can remember the whole plot of a story we read 4 years ago." Jess shook her head, her short red hair falling into her eyes for a moment before she flipped her head to correct that problem.

"Yes, but you just finished it last week. How could you have already forgotten a fact such as that? Especially since you're going to the movie tonight." I shook my head and smiled as more customers walked in. I looked them over quickly, trying to guess their orders.

No doubt the young girl in the skirt two sizes too short would want something with a long complicated order. Like a iced, fat free, soy, two shot, caramel, no whip, extra caramel frapiccino. The two men who walked in behind her would be easy. One black coffee and a tea probably. The taller of the two caught my eye and seemed to stare at me for the longest time whenever I glanced up from the register.

Sure enough, miss "Flaunt what shouldn't be seen in this cold of weather" had an order longer than my arm, which did in fact include caramel. As Jess rushed to make the order for "Angel" I turned my attention back to the two men, who now seemed to be arguing… over me!

"You can't possibly know all that just from watching her for a couple minutes and hearing her utter three sentences!" the shorter one sighed as he scratched his short blonde hair. From the way he stood and dressed, combined with his hairstyle I couldn't help but assume he was military.

His companion looked either bored or slightly offended by this remark. "Come no, John, I would think that you would know me better by now. Of course I know."

"May I inquire as to what it is you know exactly?" I asked as I wiped my hands on my apron.

"Aside from the fact that you're an American that has been here in London for at least a year and are currently in school for art. I can also tell that you have a daughter who is at least 3 years old but you're unmarried…"

I had to cut him off there. "Okay smart guy, prove to me that what you've said so far is true and I'll start proving you wrong."

He looked somewhat amused by my challenge and ran a hand through his dark curls. "Your accent betrays your nationality. It's distinctly American, west coast if I'm not mistaken, although you have acquired some of our speech patterns to blend in, purposefully or not. Given that it's not true English, I'd say at least a year abroad here.

"You're working in the afternoon and judging by how much coffee and syrup your clothes have, I'd say you haven't been here today for long so you just started your shift. That means that you've been going to class in the morning's and working later in the day to stay up and do your schoolwork. You have rings under your eyes proving you've been up late and charcoal under your nails along with paint in your hair. Hence: art student."

"And as for my 'daughter'…?" I said it rather coldly, causing John to look at me with a perplexed expression.

"You're wearing a bracelet, home-made, judging by the gaudy large plastic beads. On the lettered beads reads the name 'Zoey'. A childish name I can only assume that it belongs to a small child you know. And the fact that you're wearing it in public despite how tacky it is, means that it belongs to someone close to you. Now, seeing as you're in your twenty's its safe to assume that it's your own child and having no ring or even a mark from one: single mother."

I set down their drinks which they never ordered and glared at the cocky man in front of me. "You're right in the fact that I am from America, west coast. Oregon to be exact. And I've been here for two years as a matter of fact. I'm just slow on picking up accents. I am an art student. So far you're right. Where you went wrong is your main view of me. I am NOT a single mother and I don't plan on being one anytime soon. Zoey actually happens to be MY name, thank you very much. I just forgot my nametag at home today."

I saw his companion smirk slightly as the lanky man's smug face changed to a slightly surprised one. "The bracelet is home-made but if you didn't notice, the beads are old and scratched while the string is new. Now, if you're so observant you would have realized that this bracelet is several years old. And it wasn't made by a girl. It was made by my little brother three years ago. He made it look girly for me."

"Your brother?" He looked confused.

"Yes, I can see the age gap caught you off guard. You never assumed that I was a sibling did you?"

"Just not one with such distance between you."

"Never considered a cousin? Or niece or nephew? Doesn't have to be my kid. Never considered that my parents separated and one remarried? Also, it's not just the two of us. There are several more kids between us. I'm the oldest."

John turned and grinned. "See, Sherlock? You can't know everything about everyone."

Sherlock frowned and looked down at his foam cup. "I see. But with the rate of teen pregnancies these days one never can truly tell unless you have both adult and child in view. One can properly assess the relationship then."

I reached into my pocket and held up my cell phone; my wallpaper of me and my two youngest brothers glowing before him. They were both blonde like me, Ian's blue eyes putting mine to shame. Kayden's green eyes smiling as he reached for my phone with his pudgy hand. He had been two then. Ian had been five.

"Oh yes, well if I had seen this I would have known immediately that you were Zoey and it wasn't a daughter."

"Sure you would." I mumbled as Sherlock and John left for the door. "And by the way, my name isn't childish."

"Not at all." I heard Sherlock reply, a slight smile could be heard in his voice.

The next day when I got off work, Sherlock was standing outside.

"What do you want?" I sighed. I wasn't sure if I should be creeped out by him doing that just yet so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and talk to him.

"Answers. You're quite the unique subject for me, Zoey." He walked a step behind me, hands in the pockets of his dark trench coat. A blue scarf was wrapped snugly around his neck. He was dressed for cold weather and I couldn't blame him. I was only in jeans and a sweatshirt so I was obviously unprepared for typical London weather.

"A subject, am i?" I rolled my eyes and pushed up my glasses as I wrapped my arms around myself in the wind.

"In a sense. Never before have I been so wrong about someone. Getting a brother or sister mixed up, I have done that occasionally. There's always something. But with you…"

"You assumed I was easy and irresponsible." I turned to look at him, having to look up quite a bit as my head landed right about at chest level.

"No. I merely assumed that you had engaged in normal horomone controlled teenage escapades." He looked down at me, neither offended or appologetic. His pale eyes were almost expressionless but still had some warmth in them. So he wasn't TOTALLY a bad person.

Without realizing it, the horomone crazed girl he had been talking about in me began to look him over. He was obviously tall and lanky, but not so much so as I first thought. He was also definitely older than me, but not by more than ten years. He had to be in his mid thirties, I guessed.

He had a long face with a somewhat large nose but they balenced each other out nicely. He had very high well defined cheek bones giving him a strong bone structure. His dark curly hair was kept just out of his eyes and was almost calling out for me to ruffle those unruly locks.

Oh, those eyes! His eyes, those beautiful light gray-green irises of his which seemed to notice everything but reveal nothing. All in all, I could find myself describing him as fairly handsome. Although his attitude did leave much to be desired.

"However," he interrupted my thinking and made me jump slightly "The way you explained yourself was almost as if you were observing yourself."

"I try not to be objective of anyone until I know them better. So if someone has an opinion of me I like to be able to justify why or why not." I turned to keep walking but he followed.

"Not many people are so aware of themselves."

"Yeah, well, having so many siblings I have to be aware of what im doing all the time so I can avoid blame." I found myself smiling slightly. "And I know im not perfect so being aware of my faults instead of ignoring them helps me try and fix them. That way I can turn weakness into strength."

"Strange you think that way."

"What way?"

"That something weak can become strong. Or something harmful can be good." He looked up at a building for a moment then back down at me.

"That's basically life. I always believe there's good in something." I stopped and looked up at him again. "Like a vaccine. It was originally some harmful sickness or poison but has been studied and harnessed to be used to help. "

He stared at me for quite some time then held out his hand, a gesture which seemed slightly awkward for him. "Sherlock Holmes. Consulting detective."

"Zoey McCarron. Barista and college student." I took his hand and shook it. It wasn't as rough as I expected but it wasn't soft either. "I don't think I've ever heard of a consulting detective."

"That's because I'm the only one in the world. I invented the job." He said flatly although I caught some smugness in his tone.

"Oh I see. Well how nice for you." I shivered and hugged myself tighter.

"You're cold."

"No duh." I rolled my eyes and turned to leave.

"You should stop by my flat sometime. It would be very interesting to have another conversation with one who thinks in a similar fashion as I do." He turned so we were nearly back to back but still looked down at me over his shoulder. "You could even stop by now. I bet Mrs. Hudson has some tea already brewed."

"Is that an invitation?" I raised a brow as he continued to stare at me, waiting for my answer. "You do realize we've only just met and know practically nothing about each other."

"On the contrary. I already know much about you. " He smirked and started walking, making me follow in order to listen to him. "I know that youre an art student learning abroad, which is a fact we've already covered. You're also the eldest sibling out of… four?"

"Five."

"Of course. I know that you're very devoted to them. Or at least the youngest two of them. You favor them above the others for some reason. Could it be the others dislike you? That or your maternal instincts kicked in when they were born due to the age gap. Making you possessive and protective. Now that being said, you've grown up around children younger than you for most of your life, giving you a sense of responcibility around children and yet making you somewhat immature."

"What makes you say that?" I said, slightly offended that he already thought I was immature.

"Your whole self screams childish no matter how old you are. Your hair, I can tell, is rarely styled and almost always pulled back. You're wearing a graphic tee with a cartoon character on it and have drawn all over your shoes."

"So what? I'm an art student. My hair has to be pulled back to stay out of my way and I hardly have time to style it. Also, lots of teenagers wear graphic tees and to repeat: art student. I draw on everything. Including clothing."

"Yes but notice you said teenager. You're not one anymore." He pointed out without looking back. I was glad he didn't cause I felt my face flush. "However, that immaturity comes in handy when you have to relate to children. You can understand them, communicate with them, and tolerate them better than most of your peers. That aspect also makes you friendly and outgoing to others. Like now. Not many people put up with me for so long."

"John has." I said, remembering the professional, quiet man who he had walked in with.

"Yes, well, he's my flat-mate and accompanies me on my cases." He shrugged it off and kept going.

"You're quite clever, but others don't usually see you that way. Which means you arent necessarily book smart. Possibly its that you know a lot but nothing of great importance at the time. I'm guessing you know much about children and obviously art. Probably very little math or science as you see no importance for them in your field of study."

"And you think yourself superior to others just because you have abnormally sharp eyes and memory." I said as I stuffed my hands in my pockets. "I will admit that you are quite clever and make good deductions but due to you being so blunt most people stay away from you." I continued to walk with him, now beside him. "Yet you chose a job that helps the very people that shun you. Interesting."

He lead me into 221b Baker street. It was a fairly pleasant and cozy place. The shelves were stuffed with assorted books and several odds and ends. A skull sat on the mantel next to a knife which appeared to have been stabbed into the wood. Jars, papers, leaves and other strange objects lay on the tables and counters. I could tell from a quick glance that the whole kitchen had been converted into some sort of lab. John looked up from his arm chair where he had been reading, appearing slightly puzzled.

"It's not like you to bring home company."

"Call it an experiment, John." He shrugged out of his coat, revealing a nice fitting suit. It was simple enough, a white shirt under a black jacket with slacks to match. "Im testing out relations with the opposite gender while attempting civil conversation."

"You're doing what?" John twisted his face slightly as he shook his head slightly trying to understand.

Sherlock sighed and looked at me. "I'm trying to make a female companion."

"Whoa! Wait! Are you trying to make her your girlfriend?" John jumped up, pointing at me. "When you've said you have no interest and are married to your work?" That was the conclusion I had come to as well and was equally surprised. He didn't seem like the relationship type at all.

"Of course not." Sherlock shot back, looking slightly disgusted. "Merely making an ally for future consultation."

"A friend?" I asked. He wanted me to be his friend? Why didn't just come out and say that?

"Exactly. Aside from your girlfriend, Sarah, whom I consider an acquaintance, not necessarily a friend… Zoey has proven herself to be interesting enough to keep around and also shows patience that in me that I desire in a companion."

"I thought I was your companion." John said looking confused again. I bet it was a fairly common expression since he hung around Sherlock for extended periods.

"You are. But youre also my business associate. I work and live with you. She is merely an occasional distraction."

"Youre making it sound like im a girlfriend again." I mumbled. "But something tells me, you aren't interested in anything emotional or physical that comes with that connection."

"Sexual attractions and contact causes distractions that divert my attention from the truly important." He waved it off and I wanted to groan in frustration. "In any case, she could prove to be a useful distraction."

"Useful?" John and I said in unison. Sherlock gave us both a strange look when we did so.

"Yes, she's aware of things that you and I are both out of the loop of. Younger eyes might be just what we need. Also, she would keep me from getting bored." He looked at me. "Well? What do you think, Zoey?"

"About what?"

"About assisting me when John is unavailable or his experience and knowledge adds nothing to mine. There's been a slew of kidnappings recently and with your unique view of children, you could prove useful."

"Well.. I don't know much about them from a psychological standpoint.. I don't have a degree in that type of thing… but I can usually follow a child's thoughts and actions and rationalize them.."

"Perfect. No need for professionals. Why have years of study when you can just use the knowledge you acquire on your own?" He spun around as the door opened and a handsome middle-aged man with gray hair walked in. "What is it this time? Body found or missing?"

"Found. The first victim, Kirsten Carmichael." He gestured to the door with his head and looked at me. "Client?"

"College." He turned to me and motioned for the door as well. "Come along then, both of you."

And So, as I got in the cab between the two men that followed the Detective Inspector, I learned his name was Lestrade, I found myself somehow wrapped in one man's world of genius, danger, and chaos. I also discovered that my emotional and mental capacities would be pushed to their limits with this man.


	2. Innocence Lost

Chapter Two: Innocence Lost

We walked into the park and made our way across the grass to where the lights had come on by the playground due to the sun going down. In the darkening twilight I could see police tape and several figures wandering about the colorful plastic.

Lestrade went in a few minutes before us and the woman on the other side of the tape glared at Sherlock as he passed her. John went under the blue barrier and I followed, only to be stopped.

"Who are you?" she asked in a tone that made me feel like she already didn't like me.

"I'm with them…" I replied quietly as I tucked some of my straw-colored hair behind my ear that had strayed from my ponytail. I usually wasn't so self conscious but she made me feel like I was doing something wrong.

"Who? With Sherlock Holmes?" she somewhat laughed as she asked. "Trust me, you don't want to hang around him for very long. "

"Why not? He doesn't seem all that bad. He just has a few… quirks."

"That's putting it mildly. See this crime scene? One day we might just be at one he created. Why? Because that's the kind of thing he does when he gets bored. He's not normal. He's a psychopath."

"He seems just fine to me." I replied quickly and bolder than I first realized. A large hand reached past her and took my arm, dragging me past her and under the tape. Sherlock walked away from her with me in tow and towards Lestrade, John, and a man who looked fairly unpleasant as well.

"Are you squeamish?" Sherlock asked, glancing back at me.

"Not particularly… although it depends."

"I don't want her touching anything!" the man in blue medical gear said loudly and in an obviously condescending tone. Whether it was to me or Sherlock I couldn't tell. "It's bad enough you're here but now you're bringing spectators?"

"Tell me, Anderson, how's the marriage going?" He smirked and Anderson glared, walking away before Sherlock could take his life apart in front of his coworkers. Although I could see, once Sherlock had asked, that Anderson was walking rather stiffly and he had looked rather tired. Didn't take a genius to know from those clues that he was probably sleeping on the couch, which was either too small or uncomfy for him.

"You sure have a lot of friends." I said as I followed Anderson's departure with my head. Sherlock stopped and I turned back around, my knees almost going out immediately. "Oh, my god…"

Laying in the woodchips under the slide was a little girl about nine years old. She was wearing her pink shirt and plaid skirt with rainbow striped tights that I assumed she had gone missing in, seeing as how they were dirty and wrinkled from several days of use in a row. Her hair was falling out of the style it had been in and tangled, the remnants of a French braid keeping some of her long blonde hair in order. Her eyes were closed but had dark rings under them, tear streaks stained her chalk white cheeks.

I covered my mouth with my hands and felt myself shake as tears welled up in my own eyes. The ghost of a large hand practically glowed, the dark marks from fingers in contrast to her tiny pale neck. I staggered and John caught me as I fought back a sob.

"Bloody hell, Sherlock, she's not ready for this. Why did you drag her along?" He supported me and wrapped his coat around me as I shook.

"Because we need her." He said flatly as he bent down and started examining the girl. "she can get inside her mind."

"She's dead, Sherlock. She cant ease a testimony out of her!" John shot back as the tears rolled down my face, eyes locked on little Kirsten's face. She looked so peaceful, like she was sleeping but it was a kind of sleep I knew she wouldn't wake up from.

"No she cant." Sherlock mumbled as he picked up her tiny hand. A charm bracelet tinkled as he moved the chain. I found myself gripping my own wrist, rolling the beat up plastic beads between my fingers. "But she can tell us exactly what was going through her mind the whole time she was missing."

"I want to go home…" I choked out and Lestrade moved to take my arm and lead me away. I pulled my arm back and looked at Sherlock. "No…that's what she was thinking." I took a deep breathe and crossed my arms, still shaking. "She wanted to go home."

"What makes you say that?" Sherlock asked, wanting more than an obvious response that Lestrade or John would probably give him.

"She's a little girl. She was taken by strangers to some foreign place and held there for reasons she didn't know. She didn't know what would happen to her or how long she'd be there. She was scared and she only wanted her mom and dad. She just wanted to go home…"

"Good! What else?" He looked up at me, expectantly.

"I don't know! What do you want me to say?" I snapped, more tears coming. "She's still wearing her own clothes and they don't look like they've been taken off. So I can only guess she didn't have to endure some sicko's pedophilic fantasy…"

"Good god…" Lestrade shook his head. "If that's true then we can at least give her family some good news… but that also means we have no other motive for the kidnappings. There've been no phone calls or ransom notes. If its not some sick freak, we still have a child killer on our hands."

"This bastard IS a sick freak! He's killing children with his bare hands!" I snapped again as I fell to my knees beside Sherlock and reached out a hand, moving the golden locks away from the child's face so we could see her better. My fingers brushed her cheek. It was dirty, but still soft, much like Ian and Kayden's own faces after a day playing outside.

The only difference was that her skin was ice cold, making me pull back suddenly as soon as I felt the temperature change. I pulled back enough so that I fell back into someone. I looked up and Sherlock was standing above me. He held out his hand and helped me up.

"I think we've discovered all we can for the time being, Lestrade." Sherlock said as he held my shoulders. For some strange reason, I had stopped shaking when his hands rested there. Was there a pressure point there or was it all in my head?

Lestrade nodded and told everyone to finish what they were doing. I overheard Anderson as he put on his gloves again. "Alright guys, lets get this dead kid out of here."

Sherlock kept walking but stopped, as did John, as I suddenly turned and walked back to Anderson, punching him in the face. He stumbled back, stunned, as police officers rushed forward to see what had happened. "What the hell?"

"She is NOT just some 'dead kid'! Her name is Kirsten and she's someone's baby! How about you actually treat her like she's still a person and not just a job!" My hand hurt but I ignored it as my face grew hot with anger and bitter tears welled up in my eyes once more. John ran over and grabbed me away as Sherlock merely stood there, watching rather intrigued.

"Come on, let's get you home." John said quietly, but I shook my head as I wiped my eyes.

"I can't go home tonight… not after seeing that.. seeing her." I was shaking again. No doubt from anger mixed with the adrenaline from punching Anderson.

"Well, we'll get you some tea or coffee back at our place. Calm you down a bit." I could only nod.

What kind of person would do that to a helpless child? Why chose her and for what purpose did taking her serve? I couldn't wrap my mind around anything that made logical sense and found myself crying myself to sleep in the cab.


	3. So It Begins

Chapter Three: So It Begins

I awoke to the feel of a strange bed and foreign covers. Slightly familiar smells registered but I couldn't quite place them as I slowly pushed aside the fog from my brain. Upon opening my eyes, I discovered I was, in fact, on someone's couch. Examining the room, I found that I was in 221b Baker street and Sherlock was already up and about.

"Ah, you're awake, good." He looked up from his laptop and smiled slightly before going back to whatever he was doing.

"How long was I asleep?" I sat up groggily, scratching my head and undoing what was left of my ponytail. As I yawned I quickly ran my fingers through my hair as a makeshift comb and started braiding it.

"Well its about ten o'clock now." He said without looking up. "No need to panic. It's Saturday so you have no school and I already called into work for you."

"You did what? Why?" I was slightly startled and a little in a panic. He'd called into work for me? With what excuse? A strange man calling saying that I wouldn't be coming in today would seem awfully suspicious.

"You sustained a bit of a shock last night and acquired some unneeded stress that you need time to sort out. I merely told them that and you would probably be in within a couple of days."

"Well… aside from today, I wasn't supposed to work again until Tuesday. So I guess that works…" I still was trying to get over how bold he was but took into consideration that he did it with good intentions. I rubbed my eyes and found my glasses missing.

"Coffee table." Sherlock said without looking away from the computer screen.

I turned and grabbed my rimless lenses from the table in front of the couch. "Thanks."

"Feel free to help yourself to anything you want to eat." He jerked his head towards the kitchen as I got up and stretched.

"Thank you." I was still slightly sleepy as I opened the fridge to look for a glass of milk and paused before I closed it again and squeezed my eyes shut. "Um.. Sherlock?"

"Mm?" He grunted, obviously deep in thought.

"What do you have in your fridge…?"

"Milk, eggs, butter…" He started but I stopped him.

"On the main shelf."

"Oh, you mean the severed hand? Experiment. I'm testing the coagulation of…"

"It's in your fridge! With your food! And who's hand is that anyway?" I opened the door again and peeked inside. It was laying on its back, fingers curled loosely, on a plate right in the middle of the shelf next to a jar of jam.

"I don't rightly know. I borrowed it from a body at the hospital that was kind enough to lend me theirs."

"So you're just 'borrowing' some poor stranger's hand." I stated, looking at him in mild disbelief.

"He no longer had any need for it. And this way he can still be of some use for further research." He closed his laptop and got up, walking into the kitchen beside me. "Does this bother you?"

"Experiments are fine. Everyone does one in one way or another but stealing the hand of some poor guy in the morgue?" I closed the door and Sherlock looked down at me, awaiting my reply. "I know you have good intentions but that just seems to be going a little too far."

"The medical examiner is fully aware of where the hand went. I didn't steal it. So there should be no more need to worry."

"You keep it with your food. That's not really sanitary…"

"Its on a separate plate and everything else inside is either closed or wrapped." He pointed out as he handed me an apple. "Most of the of is outside of the fridge in any case. Cereal, bread…" He turned and left the kitchen, sitting down on the couch and rubbing his eyes. From the way he was staring at the computer screen earlier, I assumed they were sore and dry.

"You should limit your computer time." I said as I rolled the apple around in my hands. It was cool and smooth, the skin a mix of yellow with streaks of red. "When you look at the screen you blink less. It dries out your eyes."

He peered up at me and draped his hands over his knees. "I'm guessing that's just some of the knowledge you have that people don't seem to understand."

"At my old high school, they would have a warning pop up saying how long you'd been in the computer and that fact was in the warning." I shrugged. "Sometimes I spout out facts that seem random but to me they make some sort of connection to the topic. You're right in assuming I'm not necessarily book smart. The obscure facts are the ones I tend to absorb and repeat."

He stood up and went over to the window. "Nothing wrong with remembering that which most brush aside. The stranger or smaller details are usually the most important."

I nodded as I took all that into consideration. "So, how did you see this friendship of ours going anyway?" I sniffed the apple and took a bite. I made sure to swallow before I continued. "I mean, am I just a source of additional information, or do you truly have an interest in getting to know me and spend time with me?"

"Does it make a difference?"

I laughed slightly and looked down at the apple. "I guess it matters differently to you."

"You are a source of information and a viewpoint which I lack, yes. But you're also someone who manages to keep me distracted and my mind working. Without that stimulation, I fall into a state of depression out of sheer boredom. Last time that happened, I shot the wall and Mrs. Hudson was none too pleased. But I guess it matters differently to you as well."

"I don't like being used." I replied as I examined the bite I had made in the apple. "If I am merely a distraction or some toy, I don't see us getting along well for long. Friendships rely on a mutual trust between one another. Not just common interests. If needed, we must be able to confide in one another and be there when the other is need. That is what a friendship is."

"Isn't that what we were doing last night?" He looked down at me and I saw a calmness in his observant eyes. "You cried in front of us, trusted us enough to fall asleep alone in our presence. You even stood up to Sergeant Donovan for me." He smirked. "Not many people do that, she can be fairly intimidating to most people with her prickly personality. But the fact is, Zoey," He took the apple from me and tossed it a few times absentmindedly. "You are someone I can see myself around for a long time. Much like John. That doesn't happen around most people so I like to take notice of the few who do stand out."

Although I had only just met this man, I already felt as if I had known him for quite some time. I knew that, although he could be arrogant, spontaneous, unpredictable, and rather hard to understand or get along with at times, I could trust this man to come to my aid if I ever needed him.

He reached out and took my hand, lifting it to see my bracelet. "You were thinking about your brothers last night. I watched you grab for this as I picked up the girl's hand to see hers. It wasn't just the fact that she was a child that got to you. You put your brothers in her place. You not only saw things from her perspective as a child, but also that of a parent. That's another reason you got so upset with Anderson."

He smirked and ran his thumb over the letters of my name before he let go of my hand. "You have quite the right hook on you."

"I blame my dad." I smiled and rubbed the beads as well. "He taught me how to defend myself. He's very protective but wants us to able to live, not hold us back with fear."

"He's in law enforcement."

"Okay, tell me how you got that conclusion out of me saying he's protective."

"You seemed rather comfortable around the crime scene when we first arrived. Most people would be unnerved by all the cops and lights. That told me you've been around situations similar to that. You also said that he didn't want you to be held back by fear. Meaning that he's seen firsthand how bad things in this world can get, but he doesn't want you to have to see or think about those terrible things. He taught you how defend yourself in the off chance that something did happen to you. You also think like an officer."

"I do?" I tilted my head to the side and crossed my arms. "How so?"

"When you saw the girl last night, you looked her over and the main conclusion you came to was that she hadn't been touched. That her clothes hadn't been removed or altered at all. Most people wouldn't look for something like that. You know what this world is capable of. Your father, wanting to protect you, has exposed you slightly to the darker side of life so you are aware of it."

"He told me about the nightmares he had when I was born. That I was taken or touched and he was unable to save me." I nodded and smiled slightly as I remembered my dad's voice and face. "He also used to tell me stories about his job. I found them fascinating but my sister and others found them creepy or gross.

"I love crime shows and stories thanks to him. I even did a school report on a similar subject that, when I read my paper in front of the class, creeped them out so much my teacher made me stop." Looking around the room quickly, my eyes were once more drawn to him. His eyes were watching me intently under his dark curls. "I don't care if I'm creepy or strange anymore. I know that the first thing I do when someone walks by me is to look them over. I did the same to you and John when you first entered the coffee shop. I'm naturally a people watcher and always think of the worst thing that could possibly happen and try to come up with ways to get through them."

"You think ahead. That's always good. It's best to come up with several different directions that life could go. Different deductions of the same thing can lead to different conclusions."

"But sometimes the end result isn't always the one that you want." I said as I took the apple back from him and took another bite. I just realized how hungry I was.

"It's not always about what you want though. It's always about truth." Sherlock turned and sat back down at his laptop. Only this time he merely stared at it, his hands clapped together and his chin resting on his fingertips. "If you go for the outcome you want then the world falls into chaos instead of order that comes from the truth. Remember that."

I sat down on the couch and ate the apple silently. "Thanks for letting me use your couch."

"You would have argued if you had woken up in John's bed." He stated simply.

"Probably. I'm the guest so matter how much he wanted to be a gentleman I would have insisted had I been awake. It's his house, his bed. The couch was just fine."

"That's what I explained to him. In some length I might add. I had to pick you off of his bed and put you there myself."

I couldn't help but smile and shake my head. "You're just full of surprises aren't you?"

"Not if you know me well enough to expect them." He leaned back in his chair enough to grab a violin and bow, getting ready to play. "You can stay or leave. It doesn't rightly matter to me, by the way. I could tell you were wondering. So if you have to run along home and feed your cat…"

"How'd you know about Arthur?" I turned and then held a hand. "Wait... Wait... I have fur on me don't I?"

"Yes, but you also have several scratches on your arm. Fur could be dog or cat, from this distance it's hard to tell which but the marks by your elbow are a dead giveaway to a cat."

"I see then. He is rather rambunctious." I headed for the door when Sherlock stood up suddenly and walked over to me.

"I'll keep in touch." He said as he handed me my phone which I had almost forgotten. "I have a feeling ill need that maternal mind of yours again soon."

As I walked down the stairs and out the door I realized that my life would forever be changed. I would never look at anyone the same ever again. No man, for it was in fact a man's hand around Kirsten's neck, would ever be seen as just another face. I would constantly be sizing up their hands in my head. I would see every woman as the woman Kirsten could have been, or the way she and her mother would be still if she wasn't gone. Every child, I would try to memorize their face.

My life with Sherlock Holmes had begun. And I had a feeling I was only going to find myself in deeper with him in the future.


	4. Reasoning

Chapter Four: Reasoning

I spent the next few days at home, catching up on cleaning and homework here and there. Arthur, for those couple of days, spent it at my feet whether I was sitting, laying down or walking. The latter of which, I wished he hadn't for I ended up tripping on him once and bruising my rib quite bad on the corner of the kitchen counter.

On Tuesday afternoon, after I had been at work for not even an hour, I was surprised when a police car with lights flashing stopped in front of the shop. Lestrade got out as a cab that parked behind them revealed Sherlock who walked inside and right up to the counter, ignoring the four others in line.

"Don't you ever check your phone?" He said as he looked down at me, hands in the pockets of his long coat, scarf once more in place. He sounded rather annoyed.

"If you haven't noticed… Im at work." I jerked my head towards the customers and he glanced at them before turning back to me.

"I've texted you three times."

"I'm at work, Sherlock!"

"Well that's hardly an excuse for ignoring my texts. Especially when they are of great importance." He sighed, appearing frustrated with me!

My boss, Holly, walked over just about the time Lestrade walked in. "What's going on here, Zoey? Why are the police here?"

"I honestly have no idea." I looked at Lestrade who held up his badge for Holly.

"Sorry for the interruption, but we need to speak with your employee for a while. She needs to come with us."

"Has she done something wrong? Is everything alright?" She wiped her hands on her apron and looked at me rather concerned.

Sherlock ignored her and stared directly at me. "There's another body. I need you with me. John is at work so he's unavailable. Anderson refuses to work with me..." I was already taking off my own apron and hopping over the counter before he finished that sentence.

"Sorry, Hol, but I REALLY need to go with them!" I said as i followed Sherlock out the door. Lestrade stayed behind for a while, no doubt to explain things to Holly, as the cab I was in with Sherlock started off. "You have a lot of explaining to do if you have to resort to kidnapping me from work."

"I told you I texted." Sherlock huffed as he looked out his window. "And I also told you that they found another body. Which is why you're here. You came of your own free will. The Modus Operandi is different for the most part but its definitely connected."

"How?" I was almost afraid to ask. I knew he was saying another child was dead but at the same time, he was saying that cause of death was different. Granted, the M-O could be anything from body position to disposing the body but I had a feeling that the cause of death was what was different. I tried to prepare myself but I failed in my attempt.

This child was smaller than the last victim, i could tell that much from a distance, which immediately made my stomach twist into knots and set off warning signals. Anderson was standing over the body with his arms crossed, the remnants of a black eye still fairly prominent when he turned his head to face us.

"How old?" I whispered to Sherlock before I could see the body well enough.

"Tyler Morris. He's 6." Sherlock said emotionlessly as we walked around the tiny body. He didn't have any marks on his neck but he had the same pale sleeping face. I spotted freckles and knelt down to brush his hair from his face like I had Kirsten. His hair was soft and a dark chocolate brown with loose curls. But something wasn't right. His hair looked wet and matted near the back.

"Cause of death: blunt force trauma to the head." Anderson blurted out as I recognized that it was blood in his hair and that he had a gaping wound in his skull.

In in instant after those words had left his snide, irritating mouth I had thrown up on the crime scene. Anderson cursed and Lestrade shook his head as he walked up behind us.

"Are you sure she's needed, Holmes? She's just a kid." Lestrade said as he looked over at my companion and away from me as I coughed. I had managed not to contaminate too much of the surrounding area and had completely missed Tyler. I would have been offended by Lestrade calling me a kid, since I was 25, but given the age of my surrounding peers, I was a child.

"Of course she's needed!" He exclaimed as he spun and pointed to me, who was still crouched on the ground and wiping my mouth, feeling rather embarrassed but given the circumstances I doubt anyone would blame me. "She's giving me valuable information even now!"

"Like what? What she had for lunch?" Anderson scoffed, causing Sherlock to look him over.

"Tell me, Anderson, do you have any children?"

"No. But what does that-"

"Good. Now kindly shut up and stay out of my way. Im trying to find a killer." He spun around once again, hands to his chin as he thought.

"Now hold on a moment! What does me having kids have to do with this? And how did that girl give you information from vomiting?"

"If you had a child you wouldn't be here just bumbling around. You'd be seriously examining the crime scene or contemplating a occupation change. Miss McCarron here has proven that this death is more emotionally charged."

"By throwing up?"

"She has younger siblings the same age as the victims. Put yourself in her shoes and then her brothers in this boy's place. You'd be an emotional wreck too, I'd wager. And I believe that's what the killer is going for. He's trying to get inside our heads."

"What makes you say that?"

"He's testing you… seeing how fast you'll scurry… The more children involved and the more ways he can come up with to dispose of them… yes." He was mumbling to himself but in the meantime I had managed to get to my feet. "Zoey!" He suddenly honed in on me and pointed to the body. "What can you get out of this?"

"Im not a professional, Sherlock." I sighed, still feeling sick. Anderson gave a grunt of agreement and Sherlock shushed him.

"Maybe not a properly schooled professional but you have firsthand experience with this type of victim."

"Oh come on now!" Anderson threw his hands up. "You're going to listen to the babysitter? What could she possibly know?"

"I can tell that he had ice cream sometime before he was killed. There's still chocolate on his shirt and around his mouth. " I started simply, looking over little Tyler. I wouldn't give Anderson the satisfaction of putting me down. I pushed another wave of nausea back as I looked at the back of his head once more. "He was caught off guard by the hit to the head. Either that or he was already dead or unconscious."

"Why?" Sherlock asked, obviously prodding me.

"Because he has no signs of resistance. He didn't try to stop his fall forward by putting his arms out. Theres no sign he was even moving when he was hit. No marks on his hands or knees from momentum. If he had been running away there would be some sort of skid mark or something, surely."

"Anything else?" Sherlock asked slowly. He wanted me to say something; I tried to figure out what.

"He's like her. Like Kirsten… He's still wearing his clothes. He doesn't look touched."

"We did a check on Kirsten," Lestrade said. "The tests came up negative for any tearing or fluid. She was right. We'll have him checked too but if it's the same man he probably didn't do anything to this kid either." My stomach relaxed a little when Lestrade confirmed my hopeful guess.

"So she was right about one or two things." Anderson rolled his eyes. His voice was really starting to annoy me. "She's not a professional and shouldn't be here at my crime scene."

"Don't pull the alpha male 'this is my territory' crap, Anderson!" I stood up, officially pissed with this man. "A kid is dead! Somebody's child, their little boy, was murdered and you're throwing a pissy fit because I'm on the wrong side of the tape!" I turned and walked quickly away, ducking under the tape and leaving before I punched him again. I had a feeling that if I hit him this time, I wouldn't be able to stop at just once.

The crowd that had gathered to look, parted as I pushed my way through, trying not to cry again. I didn't know where in the city I was at the moment but I didn't rightly care. I just wanted away from Anderson and little Tyler, but for different reasons.

Sherlock, inevitably, caught up to me and grabbed my arm, spinning me around. "Don't leave yet. We're just getting started."

"I can't do this, Sherlock." I felt my throat tighten as I held back a sob. "These kids… I cant take much more."

"But you're helping. That's more than most people on this case can claim." He shrugged and glanced back at the flashing lights and the small crowd gathered around the blue tape.

"I know I might be helping but, I can't see any more kids like that. I can't handle it…" I wiped my eyes with my sleeve but ended up crying, keeping my arm over my eyes to try and hide it. "They're just kids… things like this shouldn't happen to them."

"Most things in life were never meant to happen. But the darker side of humanity infiltrates everyone's life in some way." I think Sherlock was trying to comfort me, but it wasn't working.

I slid down the wall of the nearest building and squatted down, hands over my face as I cried. "I just wanted to scoop him up and hug him… I just wanted to try and make him better."

"It would have been in vain." Sherlock stated bluntly, making me sob as I nodded.

"I can't do this… I can't see them like that. They're just kids…" I broke down; crying as hard as I could, head in my knees. "I just can't…"

I felt a presence close by and looked up, seeing Sherlock squatting in front of me, watching. "You can't let this get to you. I know you can do great things if you keep going."

"No you don't… I can't."

"You've already proven that you have a very observant and open mind. I know you've been through a lot already. A lot of bad things. Your parents got divorced when you were very young, which is why you tend to shy away from men your age. You don't want to get in too deep with them and then be hurt. I gathered that from when you denied sexual activity. But one of your parents remarried. Which explains the great age gap in your brothers from you. You love them so much and yet here you are, thousands of miles away from them. You can't always be there for them and you know that. So you're here, trying to play big sister to total strangers.

"You can't. You'll only go crazy each time you fail. It'll only hurt worse. You've survived so far. You're strong. You've grown stronger since I've met you. You're not really going to let all that go to waste are you?"

"Stop it." I smiled slightly and wiped my eyes.

"What?"

"Being nice. It's not like you. You're scaring me." I smiled a little wider as he stood up and held out his hand.

"Fine." He helped me up and put his hands back in his pockets. "I'm telling the truth though. You can't see everything so personal. You can't make the world the way you want it. You'll only go crazy if you try. Believe me. It doesn't work like that."

"I can't help it though. I see a little kid and I instantly think of Ian or Kayden. I miss them so much and so when I see them…"

Sherlock paused. "It makes you think of them… it makes an emotional connection…" He trailed off, becoming lost in thought. "That's it! These kids were taken not because someone wanted to take them, but because someone wanted to leave something else!"

"What? Sherlock, I'm not follow—"

"Oh, Zoey… you've just helped more than you know!" He suddenly grabbed my face and kissed my forehead before walking back towards the crime scene. "He's wanting to tamper with their minds! Their emotions! A child is half of the parent. So when the child dies…"

"You lose part of yourself." I finished, beginning to follow his thinking. "So… this person taking and killing the kids, all they're after…?"

"Is an emotional rift. He's attempting to destroy them in every way possible. Mentally, emotionally, invading every fiber of who they are."

"By killing children?" I was dumbfounded. This was almost like something out of some mystery novel. "This is unreal. What kind of sicko is that evil that he targets children?"

Sherlock clapped his hands together, squeezing his eyes shut as the gears turned wildly in his head. "I don't know, but I intend to find out. If this man keeps up at this rate, I'll need you to be emotional, Zoey. You're the strongest link."

"I started out as just a distraction and now I'm a link? I'm inexperienced, Sherlock! I have no idea what I'm doing!"

"Which is exactly what I need."

I stared at him in disbelief. He was getting excited about finding another body or about a child being stolen. He was wanting me to start taking things more personal when he just told me it would drive me crazy. He had just done a complete 180 and still wanted to drag me along for the ride.

"Sergeant Donovan was right…" I shook my head as I watched him, he had a gleam in his eyes and it scared me. "You are a psychopath…"

He spun around, pointing a finger at me suddenly, his face serious, almost mad. "I'm not a psychopath. I'm a high functioning sociopath."

"I don't care what you are! This isn't natural! You want another kid to die!"

"I want to find the murderer."

"By sacrificing peoples babies…" I locked eyes with him, my blue eyes stinging as I held back tears. "Sherlock… have you ever stopped to think this over? You're becoming like him."

"I'm not kidnapping and murdering children."

"But you want him to!" I shouted suddenly. "For what, Sherlock? For what? So you won't be bored? This isn't a game! There are real lives at stake!"

He looked at me for a moment. "You're the second person who's told me something like that."

"Yeah? And who was the first?"

"John."

"Well, then at least one of you has your head on your shoulders right." I turned and started walking in the direction I assumed my apartment was in. "You know, sometimes when more than one person tells you something, you should listen."


	5. Apologies

Chapter Five: Apologies

The next day I was in a daze while working. I don't even remember going to school. I was taking orders wrong and during my break Holly caught me crying in the back.

"What happened yesterday? That detective told me you were involved with the missing children case..."

"I got dragged in because I knew things. Someone on the case thought I could be useful to them." I sniffed and rubbed my eyes. I looked down at my phone as it vibrated from a text. I promptly ignored it. "But I can't do it."

"What kind of things?" Holly sat down next to me and looked at me with a concerned and open expression. She was always good at listening to problems and often had good advice but with something like this, I wasn't sure if she would.

"The children that are being taken, the ones on the news?" I started, making sure she knew what it was about. She nodded. "They're starting to turn up dead. The guy who came in yesterday with the detective?"

"The tall one who had texted you?" She asked as I nodded and ignored another text.

"He's the one who thinks I'm useful. He thinks that because I have siblings the same age as the victims, I can easier relate to them. Get inside their heads in a way." I shook my head and felt more tears well up. "It's so hard because I see my brothers in their place. He wants me to do that. It's useful to him. Sherlock is very smart, I'll give him that, but he has no conscience. At least a strong one anyway. He's perfectly fine around these children and almost looks at them in the same way this jerk medical examiner does. He sees them as a job, a source of information instead of little kids. He told me himself he's a sociopath."

"You don't see them the same way as them. You see them as the exact opposite." Holly said quietly, pulling my face up to look at her. "You don't see them as clues to the killer. You see them as helpless victims. Which is good. It shows that you have a heart; a very strong caring one. But maybe that's why he needs you. Not just because you know about kids. He's fooling himself when he's telling you he needs your mind. He needs your heart."

I stared at Holly in a mild daze. She wasn't much older than Sherlock and had a little girl of her own, Melissa. She knew where I was coming from but had managed to see past that and think reasonably.

"Maybe Sherlock needs you instead." I said forcing a laugh as I managed to finally dry my eyes.

Holly smiled and took my hand. "Zoey, I can tell that he really does need you, whether either of you know it or not. Whether its cause of your mind or your heart, there's something in you he's missing in himself. If he comes needing you again, you can go ahead and go. I'll cover for you."

"I cant have you do that. That's more work for you and I cant just run out on my shift…"

"Fine. Don't go for him. Go for me. Go help find whoever is taking and hurting those kids. I'm ordering you that when that man comes needing you again, you go." I was stunned but finally nodded. She smiled and patted my cheek. "Good. Now go wash up. Your face is a mess."

After splashing my face with cool water in the hand washing sink, I turned to grab a paper towel and almost groaned when I saw the man standing at the counter. Sherlock was looking about rather curiously, watching Jess as she moved about. I wondered what he was finding out about her.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as I opted for drying my hands on my apron. His pale eyes looked over at me and glanced quickly before he turned himself more towards me.

"How's the rib? Your arm is moving more naturally today. I noticed it was hurt when I helped you up yesterday. Your arm had resistance, no doubt from the pain inflicted upon your side."

"It's fine. That doesn't answer my question."

"John is waiting with the cab. He says that if I made you cry yesterday, an apology is in order."

"And? Are you here to apologize?" Part of me was flattered that he was actually here to attempt to be civil but another part of me realized that if he apologized, he most likely wouldn't mean it. He was the type to state his mind because his mind was always right, regardless of hurting other's feelings.

"I think you already expect my answer to that." He locked eyes with me and I felt my face flush with anger but held it back. "I can tell I've disappointed you. Last night you had seen me as someone who could possibly be a hero. But I'm not. I'm the furthest thing from a white knight dashing off to save the kingdom or princess. I'm only out for the mystery and truth. And I can tell that my heartlessness has hurt you."

"So all you've come to say is that you're aware that you've hurt me?" From him, I guessed that was as close to a true apology as I was going to get. I'd take it for now.

"Yes. And I've also come to take you again."

"Sherlock…" I sighed as I felt my stomach lurch and my hands started shaking already. "I told you last night that I can't do this anymore."

"You said you can't but you still will." His face briefly twitched with a cocky smirk.

"I can't stop now." I mumbled as I took off my apron and handed it to Jess. Holly walked by and gave me a knowing smile, the small bit of sadness in her eyes wishing me luck. "God help me."

"If you believe in such a thing." Sherlock said as we walked out to the cab. I made John get in first so I wouldn't have to sit beside Sherlock. I couldn't be close to him right now. I was still too upset with him.

"You get used to him." John said quietly as he leaned closer to me. "Or at least… Used to him being Sherlock."

"He's still an ass." I muttered as I looked out my window.

"That he is." John sat up again and nodded in a agreement as Sherlock watched the two of us out of the corner of his eye.

I didn't mind. I wanted him to know I was still mad at him.

This time we arrived at a building where I was lead through the hallways and into the morgue. Somehow it was a little more comforting but not much. A mousey woman met us and greeted me, leading us over to a steel table with a body bag on it. I braced myself for what I knew was to come.

"Never really got kids in here before." Molly said in her overly sweet voice; so sweet it was almost annoying. "Now all of the sudden they're coming in all at once. Funny how that works out, hm?"

I saw her look at Sherlock. She obviously fancied him but he didn't notice or care as he went about his investigation, brushing her off.

"Yes, quite fascinating, Molly. Dead children…" He droned quietly, making Molly flinch by insinuating she didn't care. He obviously didn't but he was still pointing out how other people felt about the whole thing.

"I didn't mean that.. I just…"

"Yes, fascinating I'm sure." He mumbled as he unzipped the bag, revealing another little pale face.

I stepped closer, looking down at the little girl. She could have been seven and looked surprisingly clean compared to the others. With her short dark hair and blood drained face she reminded me of the little girls who dress up like Snow White.

"I bet that was her favorite princess…" I mumbled, making Sherlock look at me.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just… thinking." I shook my head and closed my eyes tight. I had to stay connected to this child but not let it drive me crazy.

"Thinking is always good. Now," he unzipped the bag further and I saw a deep gash running across her small, fragile looking neck.

The next thing I knew I was waking up on the floor, John's coat tucked behind my pounding head. Sherlock was the furthest away, standing no doubt, as John knelt beside me. I felt like I was floating, that or the room was spinning.

"You fainted." John said simply as he put his hand on my forehead to keep me laying down when I moved to sit. "Lay here for a bit. Molly went to go get you some water."

"Fascinating reactions." Sherlock said as he looked down at me, slightly amused. "They seem to get more drastic with each body."

"Well they seem to get more violent to me." I grumbled. "Choking, beaten, slicing the throat… some sicko is really going to town experimenting on ways to kill."

"Interesting." Sherlock tapped his fingers together in thought then looked back down at me. "What did you feel before you passed out?"

"Nothing. I just saw her neck and then I was on the floor." I was glad I didn't remember anything in between because from the way my head was hurting, I guessed I landed pretty hard on it.

John inspected me for a concussion then allowed me to sit up. Molly had forgotten the water but did manage to bring me a bag of ice. I eagerly put it against my skull. Sherlock was back to inspecting the girl as I sat on the cold hard floor. Sherlock continued to mutter and mumble to himself and ask John medical questions.

"He's evolving." I said quietly. "He's becoming more physical to them. More destructive. Each cause of death was up close. In most cases like this that means there was an emotional connection, often filled with rage that was the driving cause of the murder. But what triggered such violence on children?"

"True, there was no apparent connection with any of the parents or other family members." Sherlock nodded. John helped me to my feet right as Lestrade walked in.

"I thought I'd find you here." He sighed. "Sherlock, there's something you need to see." He glanced over at me, still holding the ice to the back of my head. "I think you'll want to leave her out."

"Whatever for? I thought I made it clear that she's on this case with me."

Lestrade kept an eye on me then turned to Sherlock. "There's been contact. Someone sent a video… With a note attached and addressed to you."

Sherlock grinned. It was an eerie grin, one that was unnatural in the situation it was being revealed. He clapped his hands together and spun around, coat tail twisting around him for a brief moment.

"Come! Let's go!"

"Sherlock, didn't you hear me?" Lestrade pointed to me. "Have John take her home. Don't drag her along for this part. She can sit out just once. She's already broken down in tears…"

"I need to go." I said as I set the half melted bag of ice down on one of the autopsy tables. From the look on everyone's faces, they assumed I had gone mad as I felt the determination on my face. "I want to stop this creep before any more kids get hurt."

"Let's not waste any more time then." Sherlock smirked as he turned and walked quickly out the door.


	6. Change of Plans

Chapter Six: Change of Plans

"Mommy? Daddy?" The wide brown eyes looked around the darkened room anxiously. "Mommy! I want my mommy!" Tears streamed down her round little cheeks as she clutched her stuffed dog. The toy was matted and discolored from use and being washed repeatedly and now had dark patches from where her tears had been absorbed. "I want to go home! I want my mommy!"

"All in good time my dear." A deep voice cooed in the background. "Now, Sherlock…"

Sherlock sat in the chair in front of me as I sat on the desk just behind him. His hands were clapped together as usual and his eyes were glued to the glowing screen of the television. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration.

I was only now aware of the tears streaming down my face as I watched the terrified child cry out in fear for her parents, clung her dog for dear life.

"I know you're there, Sherlock." The voice fluctuated as the man spoke, almost singing at one point. "You know why these children have been taken now, don't you? I've done it all for you."

"What does that—" I started but Sherlock's large hand quickly glued itself across my mouth.

"Not so bored now, are you?" I could tell the man on the other side of the camera was smirking from the tone of his voice. "Sherlock… I know you say you don't care, yet, here you are! Watching this video I made just for you. " The camera zoomed in on the child's face and I felt my heart stop.

"Oh, my god…" I mumbled into Sherlock's hand, although no one could make out what I had just uttered.

Sherlock continued glaring at the screen, almost as if he was trying to summon the faceless man speaking to him.

"No doubt you dragged that new little pet of yours along for the ride." He said in a sing-song voice. I could almost see the devilish grin across his unseen face. "She's a clever one, that girl. I like watching her reactions to my work. She'll be your downfall though…"

"Good lord," Lestrade muttered. "He's been watching you?"

"This little one is just to get your attention; a game to keep Sherlock entertained and to give me a chance to play with his new little toy. Zoey…" He growled my name in a voice so deep and dark that I got chills. "You're in this game too now. No backing out or I bet you can guess what will happen to this little one, hm? The time is the same as the others. Better hurry!" He happily sang the last sentence although it made my blood run cold.

The camera staggered and then cut to static. Sherlock lowered his hand from my mouth as the room lights came back on. I was frozen in place, my hands gripping the ledge of the desk as my whole body shook. One last tear managed to escape down my cheek as I stared at the chaotic television.

"Zoey?" John asked quietly as he touched my shoulder cautiously, not wanting to startle me.

"Melissa… He has her. Oh, my god! He has her!" I suddenly moved, throwing my arms up, clinging to my temples in panic.

Sherlock turned and looked at me, as did everyone else in the room, with a stunned expression. "You know that girl?"

"That was Melissa! Holly's daughter. I've babysat for her. Oh, my god… She's only four years old! We have to find her! We have to save her!" I jumped off the desk and took off for the door. "We have to hurry!"

John grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the room, forcing me to sit down where Sherlock had previously been. He put his hands on my shoulders to keep me sitting as he locked eyes with me. His warm brown eyes looked intently into mine, they were calm and kind. "Calm down. We will find her but first we need to know what you know… You're in danger now too."

"Oh, my god. Oh, my god…" I kept repeating as I took a deep breath, bending over and putting my head in my hands. I was shaking again. "She's in this because of me. This is all my fault."

"No it's not. You couldn't have known." John said quietly as he started to gently rub my back in a comforting fashion.

"Time… He mentioned time. How much time do we have?"

"Well, Kirsten was taken about a week and a half before her body turned up." Lestrade said, arms crossed as he stood by the door. "If she was just taken today then you do have some time. Although if he keeps up with his pattern, there should be two more kids showing up in the next couple of days…."

"I think I'm going to be sick…" I inhaled and exhaled slowly and deeply as John kept rubbing my back. "If he keeps increasing in violence… then when he gets to Mel…" My phone went off and I answered out of instinct. "Hello? Holly! Oh, my god…"

My stomach churned when I realized that Melissa had been taken from their own fenced in front yard. I listened to her on the other end as she cried, in a panic. "She's okay for now… I promise." I held back the urge to cry again, to try and stay calm to help reassure Holly about her baby girl.

"Let's get you home." John said quietly as he helped me up after I had closed my phone. I was thoroughly a nervous wreck now. Sherlock was suddenly between us and the door.

"If you're taking her home, I insist that we stay the night. If she is in fact being watched, we need to check her flat and make sure that it can still be considered a sanctuary of sorts."

"Is that your way of saying you're worried?" John asked as he pushed me past the tall man and out of Lestrade's office.

"I never said I was worried. I'm merely stating the fact that she could be in danger anywhere she goes if she's being watched."

John merely rolled his eyes as Lestrade ordered a police escort home and for at least one squad car to be stationed outside my flat until further notice. John and Sherlock both walked me into my apartment, which I instantly regretted.

I had a pile of clean clothes on one chair and my box of paints was still open next to the canvas and easel in the middle of the main room. I had dirty dishes and to-go boxes on my coffee table and my sketch books and papers were scattered around on the floor.

"Im sorry for the mess…" I mumbled as I walked in and grabbed the boxes off the table and went to throw them away. At least my kitchen was clean and I was mostly caught up on dishes.

"Quite all right." John reassured me as he looked around at the pictures I had tacked to the wall or in frames. "Did you draw these?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Some of them started as doodles that came out really well. Others are just special sketches."

"For Your siblings." Sherlock cut in as he picked up a sketchbook from the floor and flipped through it. "It's obvious due to the simple shapes and objects. That and the material is aimed for younger viewers." He held up a drawing of a knight fighting a dragon. "I'm guessing you tell your brothers stories on a regular basis."

I nodded. "Yeah. I'm working on a picture book for their birthdays. They love that I can put them in the stories." John jumped as Arthur suddenly rubbed against his leg. "And don't mind him. He's an attention hog."

John smiled and picked up the fat Russian blue that promptly rolled onto his back in John's arms so his stomach could be scratched. As John and Sherlock were both distracted by different means, I worked on straitening up.

When I was just about done, John looked down at his phone. "Bloody hell…"

"What?" I asked, folding the last of my shirts and putting it on the pile that was destined for my bedroom.

"Sarah and I were supposed to meet for dinner tonight." He sighed but didn't sound surprised. With Sherlock towing him here and there, I could see why this appeared to be a common occurrence.

"Go ahead and go." I said, smiling as I picked up the pile of clothes. "I'll be fine here by myself."

"Actually, I'll be staying." Sherlock said, as if it were already decided. When I stared at him he looked back at me as if it was clear why he said that. "Until I'm certain your flat is clean and you're safe, we won't leave you here alone."

"Fine." I sighed. "John, you can go. I think I'll still be just fine. I have the police outside anyway if I need anything."

John set Arthur down, who meowed in protest as his new friend took off out the door, leaving the three of us alone.

"You really don't have to stay." I sighed after I returned from my room, finding Sherlock inspecting my tubes of paint.

"Acrylic. Interesting. " He turned to look at me. "Most artists prefer oils, don't they?"

"They dry slower, so if you don't like something you can easily scrape it off to fix it. I don't care much for it." I walked over to him and took the tube from him, setting it back in the box and closing it. "Acrylics dry faster. Which is how I work, much to the chagrin of my instructors." I picked up the glass jar with water and several brushes in it and went into the kitchen to dump it down the sink.

"You work deliberately. You know what you want to do and go for it." He watched me as I came back and put the brushes in the box as well. "Your mind works very quickly when it comes to creative projects or problems."

Out of the corner of my eye, he reached over to my easel, which had a cloth draped over the canvas to prevent Arthur from attempting to destroy it. I moved to try and stop him but he had already flung the sheet off of the nearly finished piece. A faceless portrait looked back blindly at us.

"What's this?" He asked, rather puzzled for once.

"It's a painting." I stated, hoping he'd drop it and leave it at that. I felt my face start to flush when I realized that he wouldn't.

"Fascinating." He mumbled. "Its different from your other works thus far."

"Yeah, I started it when I was mad…" I looked away from him; arms crossed and instead looked at the canvas. It was covered with a mixture of reds and blues, forming the outline of a portrait. Darkly painted strokes, messy and chaotic, forged the familiar shape of curly hair.

"At me it appears." He stated bluntly, pointing out the embarrassing fact that I had started painting him in my annoyance.

"Yeah… I haven't finished yet." I winced at how I had stupidly stated the obvious. "I had a hard time remembering your face when I was upset. Probably because when I'm mad I do more abstracts…"

"Well, I'm here now." He said as he wandered around, opening random books. "I will be for a while until I'm completely satisfied that your home is clean from bugs."

"Offering to be my model then are you?" I teased as I still bent down to get out my brushes again. I already had a fresh jar of water ready.

"Just suggesting a way to pass the time." He shrugged as he walked around checking random objects. "That and I am a narcissist. It comes with the personality."

I shook my head as I pulled my long blonde hair back into a sloppy bun and began mixing the colors I had squeezed onto one of my less used plates. I reached over and grabbed my headphones, sticking them in my ears and hitting play.

The brush moved in time to the music and I found myself humming as I worked. The colors and strokes came easily as I glanced over at the man examining my apartment. Sometimes I would look over at him and he would be looking back at me. In those instances, I found myself blushing slightly for some reason. Possibly because I wasn't used to painting candid pictures of my subjects, although he was aware of what I was doing.

When I finished I took a step back and wiped my arm across my forehead, pushing my hair out of my eyes at the same time. I sighed, satisfied and Sherlock got off the couch where he'd been lounging the last hour with Arthur.

"Intriguing. " He said as he looked over the drying paint strokes with genuine interest. "While the background is understandably angry, why is the face so calm?"

I stared back at the serious face I had painted. The lips a thin line and eyebrows slanted down slightly in thought. His eyes stared back at mine, a pair of gray-green irises looking back intently. The rest of the painting was done in broad wild strokes but the closer to the face I went, the smaller and calmer they had gotten.

"I don't rightfully know. It just sort of happened that way." I said thoughtfully, yawning. I was only now aware of all the paint I had on my arm and that I had dragged what paint had been wet on my arm across my face. I didn't know how long I had been at it, but judging from the fact that even Arthur was asleep, it had been quite some time.

Sherlock sat back down on the couch and I sat beside him, almost falling over onto him. He pushed me back up and gave me a puzzled look.

"Sorry… guess I'm more tired than I thought."

"Then go to sleep. That's the logical solution to your problem."

"I'm afraid to…" I rubbed my eyes and took my hair down, scratching my head. "Now that I'm not distracted… I'm back to being afraid. I'm afraid we won't be able to save Melissa. I'm afraid for those other kids who are stuck with whoever took them." I looked over at him. "He knew you… and I know you knew him… Who is he?"

"Moriarty." He said coldly, not looking at me, but staring into the eyes of his painted doppelganger. "He's my twin and my opposite. He's a consulting criminal."

"So he's just as clever as you then?" I asked, fearing even more for the missing children.

Sherlock nodded. "But I believe we still have the upper hand."

"How? If he's just as smart as you and knows everything about you… he even know about me!"

"He only knows what he's seen. There are still some surprises in you, I can tell that much." He glanced over at me. "You keep yourself guarded to keep from getting hurt. But I have a feeling that the day you stop being afraid is the day you find who you really are."

I was speechless at his almost heartfelt insight. "If we're going to find those kids, we both need to be as alert as possible."

"I'll take the couch." Sherlock said as he promptly lay down and Arthur snuggled up against him.

I stood off and walked into my room, grabbing an extra blanket for him before cleaning up and falling into a restful, dreamless sleep.


	7. Encounter

Chapter Sever: Encounter

I woke up to the sound of knocking on my door. I had gone to bed in yesterday's clothes, which were now covered in paint because I was too tired to remove them before sleeping. I was skipping yet another day of classes thanks to my late and draining nights with Sherlock. I rolled out of bed and sluggishly made my way to the door, a tad surprised to find Sherlock up and reading one of the books I had lying around. I had forgotten he was still here.

Upon answering the door, I saw an older man about in his forties with a hawk-like nose, slicked back hair and a rather smug expression on his face. He was wearing a suit, probably expensive but I could never tell the difference and wondered why it even mattered, with an umbrella that he used as a cane.

"Miss McCarron?" He asked as he looked me over in a rather judging fashion.

"Yes?" I leaned against my doorframe as I held onto the door, blocking his entry.

"May I come in?" He sounded rather irritated with me already.

"I don't know." I said as I held my ground with him. "I don't usually let strangers in my house."

He looked past me, spotting Sherlock and a strange sort of sneer crossed his lips. "And what would you call him then?"

I looked over my shoulder at Sherlock then back at the stranger at my door. "A friend."

"How amusing." He pushed on the door to open it further and I pushed back on it. He was beginning to piss me off. "Sherlock, could you kindly tell your little 'friend' that I mean no harm and to let me in?"

"Zoey, this is Mycroft. My brother." Sherlock replied dryly. Apparently they didn't get on too well.

"Ah, yes, and so the loving family reunion continues." He walked in when I moved to the side slightly and promptly sat down, making himself at home in the closest chair. Arthur walked around his legs to investigate then went back over by Sherlock.

I looked between the two of them. They looked slightly similar in that they both had dark hair and the same observant eyes. They both liked to dress nicely and from what I could tell thus far about Mycroft, he was also very smart and had a mild attitude problem.

"Why are you here, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked as he closed the book, which I now noticed was a notebook that contained one of the stories for Ian I had been working on. I felt a twinge of flattery.

"I didn't come here for you, if that's what you're thinking. If I wanted to talk to you, I would merely call."

"I prefer to text." Sherlock mumbled as Arthur took up residence in his lap. I could hear him purring from my spot lounging against the wall.

"Yes, how very impersonal." Mycroft twirled the handle of his umbrella, spinning the tip around on the floor. "Anyway, I came here for Miss McCarron."

"Why?" I asked, arms folded across my chest. He looked over my paint covered clothes and turned to look at Sherlock.

"I heard my brother here was hanging out with a companion of the female nature. Being the good elder brother, I couldn't simply turn a blind eye to this fact without investigating the girl." He looked over his shoulder at me, assessing me for yet a third time. "Zoey McCarron… Twenty five. Moved to London to study art two years ago. You are currently employed as a barista. You have quite the family… Your father, who is a police officer and has been for nearly thirty years, your mother, which are divorced and have been for nearly fifteen years. You have two younger sisters from them. Analise and Daniella.

"Now, it seems your father remarried and you have two more siblings. My, my… Quite the family indeed. Now, they would be, let me see… Ian and Kayden if I remember correctly. They would be seven and four now, correct?"

"Six and three, actually. And how do you know all this about me? Are you some kind of government spook?"

"Mycroft is the government. Or at least he likes to think he is."

"Now, now Sherlock… We mustn't quarrel in front of your little friend." He looked at me and raised a brow. "It is just friend, correct?"

"Of course it is." I replied a little quicker than I meant to, feeling my face flush. "Sherlock isn't the type to have romantic attachments. And neither am I. I've seen enough relationships go to hell; so much so, that I want no part in it. " Some part of me knew that I was telling the truth but another part wanted me to shut up before I got myself into some kind of jam. Why I was concerned about something like that, I wasn't sure.

Mycroft gave me an almost knowing and cocky smirk as he nodded and spun his umbrella again. "Well, give my best to your family. They're due to land in an hour or so, correct?"

"Is it the fifth already?" I reached for my phone, which I had finally figured out that Sherlock had taken my number and added his that day I almost left it with him at Baker street. Sure enough, I had totally lost track of time and forgotten that my family was coming to London for a week to visit.

"That being said, it was quite interesting to meet you, Miss McCarron. I'm sure we'll be seeing much more of each other in the future." He stood up and walked to the door, pausing beside me as he looked back at Sherlock. "Do take care of my brother, for me. He can be rather reckless sometimes."

I wasn't sure what he wanted me to do since Sherlock only ever listened to me when it was prudent to the case. It seemed the same went for how he listened to John. Yet I nodded and he seemed fairly pleased with that response.

After he left, I closed the door and leaned back against it. "They couldn't be coming at a worse time."

"Why?" Sherlock asked as he absentmindedly stroked Arthur's tail.

"Sherlock, I have two little brothers what are coming to London in the height of mass kidnapping and murder! They're right in the same target age as well!"

"You're worried that with Moriarty watching you, he'll discover your siblings like he did Melissa."

"Yes. Like Melissa." I was a tad surprised and pleased that he had remembered her name. "I don't want them to be in danger because of me. Call me paranoid, call me a worry-wart, but I do not want them in the middle of this! This is my problem, not theirs!"

"Then tell them what's going on." He shrugged as he said it simply. "Your father is a cop. He understands these sorts of situations, correct?"

"Yes, but…" I looked down and took a deep breath "I don't want them to worry about me."

"Then you're in quite a fix." Sherlock picked up his coat and scarf, pulling them on quickly. "Well, come on."

"Come where?" I picked up my keys just in time to have Sherlock yet again grab my arm and drag me along behind him before I got locked out of my own home.

"To pick up your family of course. Once you have them situated you can assist me further."

"Oh great…" I mumbled to myself, making up a conversation I would have with my father. "Hi Dad, good to see you. Oh, I'm off yet again. Watch out for the child killer. Keep Ian and Kayden locked in a closet for the next week. Bye!"

Sherlock apparently didn't hear me or was ignoring me as we got in the cab and headed for the airport.

The tall dark haired man wrapped an arm around my back as he set down his suitcase with the other, squeezing me tightly. "Good to see you, Zo." Comparing in my head, my father was about the same height as Sherlock only with more muscle to him. He wasn't like most American cops people usually think of; he didn't have a penchant for donuts or the belly to match. Although he didn't have one now, he did occasionally have the stereotypical mustache.

"Hi, Dad." I smiled and squeezed back, letting go to turn around, arms wide as Ian and Kayden took off running from beside their mom.

Victoria was my height, in other words: short. At least in comparison to my dad who was over six foot. The both of us barely could say we were 5'3". Her long auburn hair was pulled back for the trip into an intricate bun, which is what I had expected her to do. She was dressed comfortably, but also nicely, unlike my dad who was in simple jeans and a sweatshirt. Victoria was wearing a nice blouse with a cardigan over it and a long earth toned skirt. Again, to be expected.

I braced myself for the impact as both boys hurled their full weight and speed into my chest, knocking me back a few inches as I trapped them in my arms. Ian's hair was longer than I had remembered but still just as blonde, only with a touch of Victoria's auburn starting to show. Kayden was bigger than I remembered as well; his short hair turning more brown now, instead of the gold of Ian's that it had been.

"Joey!" Kayden had problems with the "Z" in my name but his cute nickname for me was just fine by me.

"We missed you!" Ian grinned as each boy buried their face into my neck.

"I missed you too, Munchkin." I kissed Ian's temple and then turned and kissed Kayden's forehead.

"Sure, ignore us." Analise scoffed as she stood over us, arms crossed but a smile on her face. Her hair was browner than mine but still retained some gold to it, as it also retained the loose ringlets I so envied from her. She was the only one of us with those twists. "Hey, Zoey."

"Hello to you too, Ana." I stood up to hug her with my one free arm as Kayden remained locked around my neck and torso. "I forgot how tall you were. Stop it! You're the little sister!"

"I am twenty-two now! I CAN be tall." She replied back, mocking the fact that she was about a good five inches higher.

Daniella stood back waiting for her turn, her short copper hair styled in some punkish fashion. She was the athletic one of our little trio. Ana was the bookworm and I was the one bitten by the art bug.

I hugged Danni and smiled. "You've grown up. "

"I'm seventeen. Not quite grown up yet." She smiled her normal crooked smile, her braces finally gone revealing perfect pearly whites. "One more year."

"Don't be too eager." Victoria piped up as she put a hand on Ian's head to try and smooth down his wild hair. "We'd still like you to stay with us for a little longer."

Danni rolled her eyes and I pushed her towards the exit. Sherlock was waiting by the cab we had taken while Dad went to bring around their rental. "Who's thaaat?" Ana whispered to me, elbowing me and grinning.

"He's a friend I'm helping." I stated, wanting to leave it at that but about that time, Dad came back with the car.

"Dad! This is Zoey's new 'Friend.'" Ana said gesturing to Sherlock, who took no notice.

"Oh?" Dad turned to Sherlock and held out his hand. "I'm Zoey's father, Edwin McCarron. And you are?" I could tell by his voice and the way he was eying at Sherlock, he was sizing him up and doing his protective dad/cop look-over.

"Sherlock Holmes. I'm a Consulting Detective and have discovered Zoey to be quite the useful asset." He took his hand and shook it briefly.

I heard Ana stifle a giggle and elbowed her. "He said 'asset' not 'piece of ass'."


	8. Story Time

Chapter Eight: Story Time

I sat on the picnic table, my feet on the bench as Ian and Kayden sat in the grass at the park instead of on the toys like they had first wanted to. Sherlock had taken me back to my flat so I could change before spending time with my family. I had washed up real quick, brushed out my hair; deciding to leave it down for today, and then grabbed one of my few skirts to wear. I rather liked this skirt, it was a dark navy color, stopping just above my knees and flowed rather nicely. I wore a robin's egg colored top with it due to the fact that it was the only shirt I had without a design on it that matched and would still look decent.

After I had changed, Sherlock had dropped me off at the park where I had told my dad I would meet them after they got all settled into the hotel. He then left me there and returned to, presumably, Baker Street or possibly the police station or morgue. But not before deducting everything he could about my family to their faces.

He managed to discover that Dad had had knee surgery within the last 5 years, Both of my brothers had been born via C-section. Daniella got her braces off only a week ago, judging by the amount of cement that was still on her teeth, Ian was left handed only some of the time, and Kayden had eaten something containing blueberries and brown sugar for his snack. He also managed to reveal, much to our surprise and my amusement, that Miss "I hate needles" Ana, had gotten a tattoo on her left shoulder, even though her shirt currently hid it. All that impressed my dad and received stunned faces from my sisters. Ian and Kayden instantly loved him and had wanted him to stay and tell them more secrets.

I pulled my jacket around me as I looked down at the two boys. This had all started because Dad had asked what I had been up to and when I had mentioned working on the story for them, they wanted to hear it right then instead of letting me finish.

"So the prince had been taken by the evil wizard, making the princess very sad. Who would she play with now that the prince was missing? The young knight bravely stepped forward.

'I will go save the prince! He's my best friend and I cannot lose him to such evil!' and this made the princess happy.

'Oh, thank you kind knight. Go and save the prince.'"

"Joey?" Kayden piped up, raising his hand.

I couldn't help but smile. "Yes?"

"Does the knight find the prince?" His question was jumping ahead but at the same time it was to be expected. Kayden was the type to always want a happy ending while all Ian wanted to know was if the bad people died.

"I expect he does. Since the knight is very strong and brave and cares a lot for the prince." I winked at Ian, who had always been the knight in the stories I made for him even before Kayden came along.

"That's right!" Ian piped up, standing and putting his hands on his hips. "The knight wouldn't let some stupid ol' wizard take away his best friend! Especially when it makes the princess sad."

"No one likes the princess sad." Kayden agreed, nodding. "But she still is right now, even though we're both here." Kayden's green eyes looked up at me, searching for answers. He could tell that I was upset about something but I managed to smile.

"I'm not sad at all! I have both of my little heroes right here!" I jumped down and grabbed them in another hug. "I won't let anyone ever take you away or hurt you." I closed my eyes tight as I held them close, trying to hold them so close I could feel their hearts.

"Not even evil wizards?" Kayden mumbled as he wrapped his little arms around my neck and held on tightly.

"Especially evil wizards!" I laughed as I broke free and scooped just Kayden up this time, cradling him in my lap and pulling up his shirt so that I could blow on his stomach. He squirmed and squealed, quickly breaking free and taking off after Ian, who knew he was next.

Lunch was a nice chance to talk to everyone and catch up. Kayden had managed to earn himself some stitches when he jumped on the bed and cracked his skull on the headboard. Ian had lost his first tooth and promptly swallowed it almost immediately after, making Dad fairly unhappy about the whole retrieval. Daniella had joined her school's soccer team, which pleased me since she was the fastest girl with the hardest kick I knew. Analise, in the meantime, had had her first date two months ago and she was only just now telling me!

During lunch, Victoria and the girls decided to take a bathroom run, dragging the boys along because we all knew they were probably lying when they said they didn't have to go. This gave Dad and I a few minutes alone.

"There's something on your mind that's bothering you, I can tell." He said softly, taking a drink from his water.

"I don't really want to talk about it."

"Does it have to do with that boy?" I knew what he was implying and sighed.

"No, Dad. It does not have to do with 'that boy'… At least, not entirely… And he's a little old to still be called a boy…" I shook my head and rubbed my temples. "I've been dragged into something bad. I didn't want you to worry."

"You're not doing drugs are you?"

"No! Dad! Common…" I groaned and sighed, slumping down in my seat as I stirred my ice cubes with the handle of my fork. "There's been bad things happening in London. Things I don't want you guys dragged into."

"A gang then?" He was still trying to guess. He was going to make me tell him.

"I'm not in a gang, Dad. Quite the opposite in a way." I sat up and crossed my arms on the table, leaning forward on them. "Sherlock, he told you he was a detective, remember?"

"A Consulting one. Never heard of one quite like that before."

"Because he's the only one. He invented the job. Anyway, kids have been disappearing. No ransom notes, no phone calls, nothing. Over the last week, they've started turning up dead. Different causes of death, different disposal site; the whole M-O for each kid is different. But they're all connected.

Sherlock is someone that the police go to for advice. He finds things they don't and knows things I've never heard come from anyone. He's very smart." I found myself picturing him at the first crime scene, looking intently at Kirsten's bracelet; his pale eyes searching carefully. I shook my head and continued.

He found out I knew a lot about kids and could get inside their heads; that I can think like them. Well, he decided he needed that kind of information and dragged me along with him to the first confirmed crime scene…"

"What happened?" Dad was opposite me, now sitting exactly the same as I was. "You saw things that I've only told you about, didn't you?"

I nodded. "The first girl was strangled manually; I saw the handprint on her neck. The second victim was hit in the head, and the last victim had her throat cut…" Dad touched my now clenched fist and I continued.

"Yesterday, my boss's daughter was taken. She was taken because of me…"

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do! This time, a video was sent to the police. Melissa was in it, crying. This guy who took the kids was doing it because he's Sherlock's rival, his enemy. While Sherlock solves crimes, this man, if I can even call him that, he's a consulting criminal. He helps organize the crimes Sherlock usually solves. He's playing a game with Sherlock. Like cat and mouse."

"But how does that make any of this your fault?"

"He took Melissa because he's been watching Sherlock. I've been there with Sherlock when they find the children. He took her to get my attention; to make us chase him even more. I'm on Sherlock's team, making me Moriarty's new toy. He wants to get in my head and its working!"

Dad covered my hand with his, making me look up at him, tears being held back with all my might. "Zoey… Don't let him in. I've seen so many bad things and I had hoped you would never get that sort of glimpse of my world outside home. Things like you've seen will stay with you forever. Trust me, they don't go away no matter how much you want them to. But…" He placed a large hand on either of my cheeks, looking right into my eyes which resembled so closely his own. "But I know, even though you have such a kind heart, one that wants to love and care for everyone, I know that you are strong enough to get through this."

"I don't want him to hurt Melissa…"

"Then don't let him. Go after him, find him and kick his ass! I've seen how feisty you can be when someone you care about is being hurt. I know that your heart can be so strong that it can love even the people who have hurt you even after it's been broken. You do have a caring heart. It does make my job difficult for someone like you. You take these sorts of things home and you can't help but wish you could do more. But your caring heart can also turn around and fight for those you care about. You're my daughter. I've seen you grow up. You. Are. Strong."

I nodded as the tears escaped only to be brushed away by my dad's rough thumbs. He smiled and leaned forward, kissing my forehead.

After that, the rest of lunch went by in a blur. Ian ordered one thing but ended up eating what was on my plate and Kayden dropped his fork in his lap, covering his pants in the chocolate frosting that had been on his fork.

We started walking back to the park when my phone went off. I took it out and saw the text from Sherlock. As did Ana.

"Oooh! Your boyfriend is texting you."

"He is NOT my boyfriend!" Really, around Ana and Danni it was like they were back in middle school over some things. "He's someone I'm helping. That's it!"

"Then why are you blushing?" Danni grinned, her hands folded behind her head.

"Because you guys are acting like children. I'm an adult. Every guy I hang out with is not my boyfriend."

Ian held my hand, making me look down. "I liked him. He can read minds."

"He can't read minds. He's just very smart."

"And you always did go for the smart ones." Ana grinned, making me elbow her away so I could actually read Sherlock's text message.

Watched the video again and found a clue. Meet me at Police station. Come immediately.

"Police station?" Ana asked, looking over my shoulder. "Why do you need to go to the police station?"

"And what video?" Danni asked over the other shoulder. Oh, how I hated being short right now.

"Sherlock works with the police. Of which fact, I approve." He looked over at me with a strange nod that somehow made me blush again. "He needs Zoey to help him with an art fraud case." When he said this, both girls turned around in understanding. Art was boring for them. They had instantly lost interest about hearing any more about it.

Dad gave me a smile as I started walking away. "I'll meet up with you later!"

"Zoey!" I heard my name and turned to look back at them, Dad was standing where I had left him as the others kept going towards their destination. "You're strong. Don't let anyone tell you that you're not."

I nodded and smiled, turning back once more and running off into the London crowd.


	9. Clues

Chapter Nine: Clues

I arrived at the station, only to be greeted by Sergeant Donovan. Her eyes narrowed when she saw me and she crossed her arms. "Oh, it's you. The freak did say you'd be coming. What, are you like his pet now? He calls and you come running?"

I felt anger well up and I tried very hard to keep calm and not to cause trouble but she was making it hard. "Sherlock's not a freak."

"So you say. From what I've seen, he's not right in the head. All those times where you were crying at the crime scenes? Those types of situations get him off. He loves them. He's a freak no matter how you look at him."

My hand suddenly felt very warm and tingly; possibly because I had just slapped her across the face. Everyone within earshot turned around, stopping what they were doing briefly. "Your opinion of him is not the same as mine. Not everyone has to listen to and agree with how you see things! I happen to like Sherlock Holmes regardless of what you have to say and frankly, he's a lot better person than you!"

"Well, they say you are the kind of company you keep. You say you care for children but still show up to see them dead? You're just as much a freak as he is."

I couldn't take it anymore and finally lost my temper, something which I always tried to avoid. I always seemed to get myself in further trouble whenever I got truly mad. I tended to act without thinking and also sometimes lost control of my own mouth.

"I'd rather be a freak than a bitch!" I could feel the brief expression of shock on my own face as that word escaped my lips, especially at such a loud volume in a public area. Donovan's own face was both surprised and mad. She obviously didn't appreciate me calling her that but at the moment I could care less.

Lestrade luckily walked into the room about that time and ran over to touch my shoulder in order to distract me before I reacted further. Donovan was none too pleased as she held her stinging cheek. "Sherlock is this way."

I allowed him to lead me away from the drama in the station that I had just caused, glad to get away from it. Sherlock was in the same room we had been the first time we had watched the video, the lights once again turned off and blinds drawn so as to keep the room dark.

Sherlock was slouching in the desk chair he had taken up residence in the desk chair, elbows on his knees and chin balanced on his fingertips. His fingers were tapping together in a strange rhythmic pattern as his eyes remained glued to the screen, which was paused on a far away view of Melissa. He didn't move as the room flooded with light from the open door.

"He's been like this for a while." Lestrade said as he motioned for me to go in. "I'll be back in a bit. I have some stuff to attend to first." I nodded and Lestrade left, closing the door behind him. I could hear commotion from where we had left Donovan.

"Sounds like you and Sally had a nice little chat." Sherlock said without looking at me.

"Something like that…" I mumbled as I walked up behind him and put my hands on the back of the chair, leaning over him. "Why did you text me? And why is the video stopped?"

"I texted because I needed you. I thought it was obvious from the message." He glanced back at me then back to the television. "And as for the video, isn't it obvious why I stopped it?"

"Not to me…"

"Look at the screen, what do you see?"

I stared at it for several moments before answering. "I see… a scared little girl."

He sighed and shook his head, standing up and walking over to the screen. "Look again. Really look!"

"Sherlock, I AM looking! That's all I can see!" I was still partially upset with Donovan and him being impatient and cryptic was not helping. "All I see is a scared little girl crying for her mother."

He groaned and covered his eyes with a hand, sighing in frustration. "You women and your maternal instincts. Maybe your family did come at a rather inopportune time. Your brothers have clouded your observation and replaced it with emotion. Come on, Zoey! What do you see?"

"The room is dark, Sherlock! What do you want me to see?" I snapped as I walked over and stood in front of him. "What is I could possibly see from this? Moriarty said he was after me and this was for me! All he wants me to see is Melissa to get inside my head! All that I see is Melissa, just like he wanted! He wanted inside my head and you know what? It's working!"

Sherlock looked slightly started by my mild explosion but quickly recovered. "That's not true."

"Yes, it is!" I felt hot tears start to form and shook my head to try and keep them back. "You don't know everything about me like you think you do! I'm not as smart as you think I am. I'm not as strong as my dad would like to believe! I can't do this anymore, Sherlock! I can't take much more of this! I know I've said that already but now I'm serious… I can't stay with you anymore."

I opened the door and walked out, trying not to cry until after I was outside. I managed to do that but just barely. As soon as the doors closed behind me, my legs crumpled and I sat on the stairs and sobbed.

I heard the doors open after a while, assuming it was just some more constables going in or out like it had been for the last couple of minutes. They hadn't really paid me any mind; probably under the assumption that I was a grieving daughter or some such of a victim of a crime. I was wrong when I saw a shadow cast itself over me after the figure had descended several steps.

Sherlock stood over me, hands in his pockets, looking rather upset at me. "You're observant of yourself but only to a point. What you just said in there was incorrect in every way!"

"I don't rightly care right now who was wrong or right, Sherlock." I turned and looked away, I had my arms crossed and draped them over my knees, resting my cheek on one of my forearms.

"You should. You should know what you're truly capable of. Like me. Regardless of what others say or think." I ignored him and this seemed to agitate him. "You're acting like a bloody child right now, Zoey! You may know a lot about children and can think like them but you don't need to act like one just because you can't handle what's going on!" He was shouting at me, which made me jump slightly. It was a change from his usually calm and arrogant or indifferent attitude.

"You can't give up just because you don't like the way something is happening. It doesn't work like that! You told me before that you come up with different solutions to a problem. So far I'm only seeing one!"

I didn't like that he was scolding me like some sort of child and stood up, body tense and trembling. My adrenaline was pumping like crazy due to the emotional stress he had caused. "You dragged me into all this! You're the one who brought me to the crime scenes where Moriarty saw me! That's the reason Melissa is gone! I never wanted to be part of a murder investigation to start with! I cant handle the bodies! They're just children, Sherlock! Do you even care about that?"

"That they are children? No. They're no different than the other bodies I've come across. The only difference is that they're smaller. That being said, would you react the same if it had been an adult body? Yes. I know you would have. " Due to the stairs we were standing on, He was almost eye level with me at the moment. "But you're lying when you said you can't do this anymore. And you're sure as hell fooling yourself when you say you're not as strong as your father says!"

"Prove it!" I challenged as my patience wore thin. "Prove me wrong! Why should I stay with you right now? Other than the fact that Moriarty will hurt Melissa… What makes me wrong and you right?"

"Instead of seeing the first victim for who she was, you put yourself in a weak state of mind by placing one of your brothers in her place. The fact that you were able to withstand that proves that you're strong enough to handle your own mind. Another fact was that you came whenever I have summoned you, even though you knew what you would see. You've been able to endure this much so far and the fact that you're still out here crying proves to me that you haven't hardened yourself to situations like this like most others do."

He reached out and held my face in his hands, his eyes locking with mine. His face was still upset, obviously frustrated but it was softening a little more now as his eyes showed concern, even if it was just the tiniest amount. He wasn't the type to comfort and wasn't one for a lot of physical touch either, I could tell. But the fact that he was making an effort was such a nice gesture from him that it hurt. I started crying again as he kept me where he could see me.

"You may have let him into your head, but he doesn't control you. You're not like the rest of us. Your heart is what controls your actions and thoughts. It's still soft and open and beating strongly. He can't control that."

I nodded and sniffed, looking at him as tears rolled down my cheeks, stopping where his hands made contact with them. "I don't know how you want me to help… I didn't see anything in the video."

"Which is just what I wanted you to see. Nothing. It's what you didn't see that's important. I watched that video all day and finally found something from it."

"What?"

He gave me a quick smirk, revealing a dimple that I hadn't noticed before since he hardly smiled the whole time I had spent with him. "I know where that video was filmed."


	10. Distractions

Chapter Ten: Distractions

Sherlock said he would explain on the way there as he gave Lestrade a heads up for a warrant and headed off into a cab as usual.

"Why don't you just go with the police? They could probably get you there faster and cheaper."

"Probably, but this way I don't have to wait up for all the paperwork and red tape. It also gives me some extra time to poke around the area before the police come and ruin any possible clues." He looked out the window and sighed. "So many opportunities lost due to their carelessness."

"Well, from a cop perspective, I'm sure they're doing the best they can." He didn't look at me as he remained staring out at the passing city.

"Their best sometimes isn't enough. That's why they come to me."

"If I was meeting you for the first time, I would say that's just your ego talking…" I mumbled, making him smirk. "How do you know where Melissa was? You can't be positive we're going to the right place…"

"That is where you're wrong." I turned to look at him and he was now facing me, his smirk growing broader. "Upon closer inspection of little Melissa's surroundings I noticed that the floor she was on was cement, but it had traces of dust and almost sparkled when the light from the camera fell on it at just the right angle. Judging from the vast amount of darkness around her, I could tell she was in a large area with either boarded up windows or none at all. That makes me think warehouse."

"And the sparkling dust? There have to be tons of warehouses in London."

"The sparkling dust would be a result of some kind of metal work. A factory of some sort. Now, if you noticed, her stuffed animal must have been dropped not once but twice. There were two different points of contact with different dust levels in the fur. Now, the color of that dust was a unique shade of blue. Upon doing my research with approximate dates due to the dust accumulation, I found only one warehouse that was once used as a factory to make the bodies of cars. The color that was their specialty? A unique blend of copper and midnight blue. That warehouse is located in the lower east end of London."

He held up his mobile to show me the map and information of the factory and I couldn't help but just stare. All that information he had gathered just by watching a poorly made video with terrible lighting and screen composition. If I could gather one thing about Moriarty from that video besides the obvious, it was that he was clearly no film major.

"You are one of a kind, Sherlock." I mused as I looked out my window. "To think you got all that just by watching that tape."

"It's only impressive to those who don't ever notice or understand." He stated it as if it were obvious. "Luckily for me, that seems to be just about everyone."

He stopped the cab a few blocks away from our destination and we walked the last couple of blocks. By this time, I was wishing that I was back in my usual jeans instead of exposing my lower legs to the torture that was London weather. At least I remembered my sweatshirt. I zipped it up as far as it would go and tucked my fingers into the sleeves as I crossed my arms and walked beside Sherlock.

"What's the plan if it's locked? It most likely will be locked you know. You have to wait for Lestrade to get here to do things legally. You can't just kick the door in."

"That's why they invented lock picks." He gave me a look which I could only compare to the kind of expression Ian would often get before he attempted some scheme which usually ended in him getting caught and disciplined.

"There's no use talking to you right now, is there?" I sighed. "And why was I dragged along this time?"

Sherlock turned to me with a rather puzzled look on his face. "I figured that if Melissa was still here that you would like to be here."

"Yes, but… Sherlock… What if she is still here, but not the way I want to see her?"

"Then you'll find out what shape she's in as soon as we get inside. Hm?"

It bothered me that he was still indifferent but it was no longer bothering me as much. I wasn't quite sure why, but I was growing quite attached to the human anomaly that was Sherlock Holmes. I wasn't positive if it was because, in his own way, he'd been making an effort to comfort me even though it was outside of his own comfort zone; or if it was because I was naturally drawn to his cold and mysterious, albeit, often uncaring personality. He was my complete opposite. Perhaps that's why I had stayed along for the ride so long. Was because he WAS so different from me that my life longed for such a drastic change that I had somehow been pulled to this rather egotistic and heartless man?

He stopped on the corner and waited for me to catch up, his hair falling into his eyes slightly in the wind. Something about the way he looked just then made me stop and take a mental picture. His loose chocolate curls just brushing his eyebrows above those beautiful pale green irises. His light creamy skin lit just so by what evening light that the usual overcast day would allow. His lips slightly thinner than most would want was set in the normal line that it had been nearly every time I'd seen him. The expression was almost trademark on him around me.

I caught up a few moments later only to have a police unit drive up and park beside the sidewalk in front of us.

"Ah, Lestrade." Sherlock lifted his chin slightly to acknowledge the detective inspector. "File the paperwork and decided to come ahead and just wait for the call of approval?"

"They'll come with the bolt cutters when they get the warrant signed. But until then, we stay outside." He gave Sherlock a look, waiting for Sherlock to clarify that he understood.

"Of course. But I think I'll just look about in the meantime." He nodded and then spun around to face me, his coat tails twirling around like usual. "Shall we?"

Lestrade raised a brow at me, weighing in on if I'd actually go along with Sherlock's shenanigans. I merely shrugged and gave the older man a crooked halfhearted smile. "I'll keep him out of trouble."

"Of course you will," Sherlock chirped as he motioned for me to follow, jerking his head to do so. "Now come on. I may need you in my investigation."

I rolled my eyes but followed him anyway.

"Why do I have the feeling that you're going to somehow make that poor man's job more difficult?"

"I'm here to make it easier. He calls me when he needs assistance." Sherlock replied, brushing me off as he inspected the boarded over windows and the door, which was chained and padlocked. "Knowing the way they work, we could be here for at least another hour."

"You're really not going to wait, are you?" I sighed and looked down at the lock, which he was observing as he turned it in his hand. "Shame they have to cut it. It's a very nice looking old lock."

"You think so?" He looked up at me as he let the lock fall out of his hand and he stood up fully from having to squat in order to bring himself close enough to the lock for a thorough investigation.

"Yeah. It's one of those distinct older designs that you hardly seen anymore. It has a very nice look to it that I find enjoyable." I looked down at the old rusted padlock and sighed. "Shame it has to be ruined."

"You know what?" Sherlock inquired as he moved in a way so that I was forced to reposition as well. By now, we were both by the door in front of the lock. Sherlock's back was to Lestrade as I stood opposite him facing the street. "I rather agree."

I suddenly had the strangest feeling wash over me and quickly turned my attention away from the lock to face Sherlock, only to have him wrap one arm around my waist and his head dip down close to my ear.

"Go along with it." He whispered his breath hot against my cold ear. Before I could ask what I was supposed to go along with, his mouth had moved to cover mine.

I pulled back slightly out of instinct and let out a started grunt only to have his hand move to the back of my head and tangle his fingers in my hair, locking me in place. I closed my eyes to try and focus but my brain suddenly went from acting to actually going with it.

As his hand tangled in my hair, his fingers messaged my scalp slightly, instantly relaxing me for an instant as he pulled me closer. He was warm, or maybe it was just because I felt cold, but I pressed my body closer for that heat. My arms went from bracing against his chest to draping around his neck as my fingers found themselves finally twisting their way through his thick curls. He waited until I remembered to breathe, doing so through my mouth, and quickly took advantage of that.

Oh, my god! How this man could kiss!

As his tongue slithered its way quickly past my lips, I could better feel his own lips move against mine. He tasted like peaches.

My legs buckled slightly and I fell back against the door, his arm that was around my waist moving to slide up my leg and hiking my skirt up as he leaned us against the old wood for some support. I wasn't sure why, but I could hear my heart pound in my head as the only thing my brain registered was his lips moving with mine and how close he was to me. My body was picking up every touch and I was suddenly hyperaware of my body. Not to mention his tongue.

After a while he pulled back, but not so far that I completely crumpled to the floor; which I would have if he hadn't still ben bracing me against the door. I could feel that my face was extremely flushed and tried to regain normal breathing without panting like a dog stuck in the summer heat. Sherlock cleared his throat and looked me over.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, yeah…" I managed to say without gasping too badly. "I'm fine. Just… peachy…"

He gave me a quick smile before standing up normally as Lestrade walked across the street towards us, a rather surprised and quizzical expression on his face. "Are your men here with the warrant already?"

"You have the strangest penchant for the timing and placement of your actions." Lestrade mused as he shook his head. "And I doubt I'll ever understand the thinking behind why you do what you do when you do it."

"I see, well…" Sherlock looked down over my shoulder and smirked. "Seeing as they are not going to be with us for some time, what do you say you join us on a little surveying of our present location?"

"The bolt cutters are with the warrant, Sherlock."

"Oh well, I doubt we'll actually be needing them. Here, hold this." He handed me something heavy and cold and upon checking on what it was he had given me, I discovered that it was the padlock that had been keeping us out; with one of my bobby pins shimmied into the hole of the lock.

As Sherlock removed the chains from around the handles of the doors like a ribbon from some sort of giant present, I began to understand why he had reacted so suddenly out of character.

With me positioned in just the right spot, I blocked Lestrade's view of the lock. Carefully causing a diversion that wouldn't seem too suspicious, he managed to snag one of my hairpins and keep me in place long enough so that he could pick the lock and no longer need to wait.

I wasn't sure how I felt about being used to cause a misleading commotion, but I had to admit I wouldn't mind assisting him in the future if he needed another distraction.

I also now craved peaches.


	11. Discovery

Chapter Eleven: Discovery

Sherlock pulled the doors open, going in first as Lestrade looked over at me. He appeared rather weary of Sherlock's antics but he also appeared used to them.

"Never would have though Sherlock to be the type to attach himself to someone like that."

"Yeah, well, me either. I guess he's just full of surprises." I couldn't help but smile as I said that. The kiss had been unexpected and out of character for him, but it had been a rather good diversion from the lock picking. To everyone else around us, two people snogging couldn't have been all that suspicious so it all worked out nicely.

"Do you want to stay out here just in case we find something?"

I shook my head and took a step inside. I could smell the strong musty scent from the dust and age. "No… cause it's not 'something' I'm afraid of finding. It's someone."

"You're only as old as some of our rookies and even they haven't seen as much in a year as you have this week." Lestrade put a hand on my shoulder and patted it. "If you want I'm sure we can find you a job with us in the future."

"Thanks, but I'd rather focus on creating things for humanity that watching it crumble. I know exactly what I'd be getting myself into." I gave him another small smile. "You remind me of my dad a bit."

That got him to smile a bit. I was glad because I doubted with his job and hanging around Sherlock, it was something he rarely did anymore.

We went in after Sherlock, who was already staring at the floor with each step he took. I looked down at the floor myself, not wanting to destroy any clues he may have missed; which was unlikely.

"Someone was definitely here. Recently. There are footprints." He pointed to the dust around us and I could make out the impressions that he was talking about where the dust had been disturbed.

The three of us spread out, Sherlock going up a ladder onto a catwalk while Lestrade and I stayed on the ground floor. I went to my left, hearing Sherlock's footsteps echo on the metal bridge above me. I felt like I was in an old cop movie and was prepared to run if something unexpected happened. My current imagination had come up with, booby-traps, ninjas, or gunfire for our possible hazards. The ninja option I could probably ditch.

I explored around a pile of old crates, climbing on top of one and looking around. As I turned to survey what little bit of the floor I could see in the limited amount of light, a shadow on the floor caught my attention.

"Sherlock!" I leapt off the floor and bolted towards the object curled on the floor. As I neared it, I could see that it was a body. A small body. "Sherlock! I found something!"

I fell to my knees and slid the last couple of inches across the rough concrete in my haste, ignoring the pain it caused my legs. I reached out and my hand landed on something soft. I pulled back and could see that it was a stuffed dog.

My heart stopped as my eyes adjusted further to the darkness and I could see that the body was that of a small girl. I could just make out the red tint of her curls and the familiar shape of a round little face.

"It's Melissa!" Without thinking, I rolled her over so that her head was in my lap, my hand resting on her chest. I could hear Sherlock running across the catwalk and Lestrade heading in my direction.

A tiny thump against my palm made my eyes instantly well up with tears as I picked her up into my arms further. I cradled her small body against my chest as her head rested limply on my shoulder. I could feel the smallest brush of air against my skin from her faint breathing.

"She's alive." I said quietly, almost in shock as I kept her close and stroked her hair. She didn't appear to be injured but for all I knew she could have been poisoned. Each child had been different. "She's alive!" I said again, this time louder. I was practically sobbing with joy as I knelt on the floor and rocked her. "Oh, my god… she's alive…"

Sherlock ran over a knelt down beside me to look her over, which he was having quite the hard time doing since I refused to let her go. Lestrade was calling for immediate medical assistance as he stood beside us, keeping an ear out for a status on her condition.

I looked over at Sherlock, my eyes once again pouring down the tears which he was probably used to coming from me. Melissa moved her head slightly and I stroked her hair as I kept looking at the man beside me. He had found her. He had found her ALIVE.

As he looked Melissa over, he glanced up at me as I watched him. I wasn't sure, but I could have sworn that I caught a glimpse of relief or concern in his eyes.

"Thank you." I said, running my fingers once more through her soft but slightly tangled mess of hair.

"For what?" His fingers were pressed lightly against the small child's neck, keeping track of her pulse.

"For finding her."

"You're the one that found her. I just got you in the building." He looked at me and shrugged it off. A moment later he pulled off his coat and draped it around both of us, although I moved it so that it wrapped more around her. It appeared as if he was showing genuine interest in Melissa's condition, and trying to take care of her in what ways he could.

Within the hour I was sitting in Melissa's hospital room in a chair beside her bed, watching her sleep as I waited for her parents to come. She had been checked and they had informed me that she was severely dehydrated and nothing else appeared to be wrong. She was currently hooked up to an I.V for fluids and should be just fine.

I had my hands clapped together with my lips pressed against them as I observed her. The door opened and I turned to look, jumping up as Holly rushed in, her husband close behind. She broke down into tears of relief as she held her daughter's hand.

It appeared I was no longer needed to supervise the girl and took that as my queue to exit the room. I walked down the white corridor and when I reached the end of the hallway, I leaned against the wall to look out the window at the city below. I hated hospitals and being in one under such circumstances did nothing to ease my discomfort.

"I assume her parents arrived." Sherlock walked away from Lestrade who had been getting details from nurses on Melissa's status.

"Yeah, Holly is in there now. I felt like they didn't need me hanging around anymore." I shrugged, my hands behind my back as the wall supported me as I lounged against it.

"You're upset." He observed. "You're trying not to be since Melissa is alright but you're on edge still. Your eyebrows are furrowed ever so slightly and your eyes are rather narrow. You're also avoiding eye contact, which is unusual since you seem to do that frequently. You don't want to reveal how you truly feel right now since you feel like you should be happier than you are."

"He left her there to die." I looked out at the buildings surrounding us and down at the cars and people passing by, unaware to what the world was capable of. "She's only four years old, Sherlock. She's just a baby and he left her there alone."

He grabbed me rather roughly and pushed me towards the elevator. "You need to remove yourself from here."

"Why?"

"You're under more stress than you should be. You're uncomfortable in this environment and everything that has happened with Melissa has your emotions on a roller coaster. I've overheard you when those emotions get out of hand. I would prefer not to be on the receiving end of that."

He shoved me into the elevator, much to my protest and hit the door close button before I could escape back into the hallway. I sighed in defeat and slouched against the wall inside the descending box instead.

He caught me looking down at my legs, which the paramedics had been kind enough to clean and bandage due to the amount of debris that had been on the floor and how dirty the scrapes had gotten due to that. "You're going to be just fine as well."

"Why have you been calling her that?"

He was quiet for a moment as I had obviously puzzled him with that vague question. "Call who what?"

"Melissa. You've been calling her by her name instead of referring to her as the 'girl' or 'child'. You've been treating her like a real person instead of just another body."

"Because she is a real person." He replied almost thoughtfully. "I usually try not to associate names with feelings because it will only make the case more personal. When something is personal, your judgment becomes clouded and you desire an outcome which suits you instead of the truth."

"But why call her by her name?" I turned my face from the floor up towards him, searching his own face to see what I could gather.

His eyes were deep in thought but his face looked softer than what I thought possible for him. "Because calling her anything else would have upset you. Even I can only stand to see someone so emotional for so long before doing something to try and remedy it."

I moved across the elevator in one step and wrapped my arms around his torso, his body tensing momentarily in surprise and uncertainty. "Thank you, Sherlock."

As I moved to break away, sensing his discomfort with being hugged, let alone touched, I was suddenly surprised myself when a hand wrapped around my shoulder. Sherlock Holmes was actually hugging me back.


	12. Back to Normal Hopefully

Chapter Twelve: Back to Normal… Hopefully

Since we had found Melissa, we no longer had a time limit hanging over our heads. Sherlock had solved the problem of where she was in just over a day. We also no longer had to worry about the two other children that had gone missing during that time. One had run away from home and had come back with a police escort. Sherlock also deducted that he wouldn't have been in danger anyway, seeing as how the boy was twelve and too old to be made a target. The other girl was also too old and had gone to stay with her dad; which upset her mom and made her file it as a kidnapping.

A few days passed with no real drama to them, which for some reason, almost seemed strange after the week I had to endure. Today I was going to school for some much needed art therapy.

I sat in the den next to one of my fellow classmates as we both sketched away in our notepads. Sydney Pageant was probably my best friend since my time here in London, having clicked right away when we ended up in figure drawing together. Her sketchpad, which was a tad larger than mine, was propped up on the table, making it rather like an easel as it leaned at just the right angle. However, I was slouched over, having my book spread open over my crossed legs.

"That's bad for your back you know." Sydney mumbled as she dragged the broad side of her charcoal along the page. She had a habit of drawing people around her if they sat still for her long enough. She was taller than me by quite a bit and could have passed for a boy due to the fact that she was also rather flat chested and kept her hair cut short. It was almost a caramel shade of blonde which I envied somewhat. Straight straw colored blonde just seemed so ordinary.

"Yeah, probably. But this is still comfier and easier for me." While she drew strangers sitting at the next table, I worked on a sketch from my mind. I was taking a break from the cartoon style I had been using to illustrate my brothers' stories and was falling back into realism. "So, tell me, what would you do if someone suddenly kissed you in public?"

Sydney shrugged. "Depends on the person. Why?"

"There's this guy I've been helping lately. He does police work and stuff like that. Anyway, a while ago he needed a distraction to pick a lock. So he made out with me right there while the cops were watching!"

"What did you do?" She looked intrigued. "Was this guy good looking at least?"

"Well, yeah. He's not bad looking..." I found myself partially lying because to me, he was attractive. However, i wasn't sure what her standards for men were quite yet. "But what I did was go along with it. i couldn't really help it. He was a really REALLY good kisser somehow. i have NO idea how, cause he has no desire for physical contact or relationships unless he benefits from them. Believe me, that's the only reason he's friends with me."

"But didn't you just say he didn't want physical contact?" Sydney grinned and i glared at her. I would have pushed her but out of artist courtesy, I didnt want to bump her arm and ruin the picture. Especially on purpose. I had ruined one picture of hers on accident and regretted it for a week.

"That's not why he keeps me around! It's nothing like that! the point I'm trying to make is that, while he's unsociable and heartless and seems to care for no one but himself..." Sydney raised her eyebrows in curiosity. If I knew her, she knew exactly where i was going with all this.

"Careful. You always tell me you're going to keep yourself from getting hurt. If you get in too deep with this guy, it could end badly for you."

"I already know nothing will ever happen. He's married to his work and showed absolutely no interest or reaction after he kissed me. He's just not the type to fall in love. Even though he's this frustrating, heartless, self centered, egotistic..." I growled with frustration. "He's made me so upset so many times in just a week! He's made me an emotional wreck and made me cry several time! Why should i care for someone who makes me cry?"

"Exactly. If you like him, stay friends but if he truly shows no interest, don't keep your hopes up that he'll change. You need someone you can rely on." I nodded as Sydney put in her two-cents worth. Little did she know that I felt like I could rely on Sherlock. Maybe not for the small things, but I knew I could count on him when it really mattered.

"Right. He should only kiss me if he means it and stop using me however he pleases."

"I thought you said nothing happened..." Sydney raised a brow again and smirked.

"Nothing did happen!"

I was suddenly aware of someone standing behind us when I heard him speak. "Hey, wow! Did you draw that?"

We both turned and discovered that the 'you' he was referring to was in fact me. I was a tad startled by this man's silent and sudden appearance. He was smiling a rather impish grin at us as he looked down at my paper, his dark brown eyes scanning the picture approvingly. He was rather handsome, his short black hair styled for a deliberate "just rolled out of bed" look while his face still retained a certain boyish charm.

His fascination with my work, combined with his good looks managed to get me a tad flustered but I was still able to manage an answer to his rather obvious question.

"No, I didn't draw it. I, uh, cast a wizard spell on this pencil here and it drew itself." He seemed puzzled by that answer so I continued. "I'm a transfer student from Hogwarts, you know."

Sydney let out a snort of amusement as the man leaned over and grinned wider. He was dressed like any other student here: well-worn jeans and a band tee; however he smelled far better than any guy I had encountered in class so far. He obviously took care in his personal grooming.

"Well then, you'll have to teach me that spell. I'd do anything to be able to draw like that! Is it something you did from your head?" He gave me a look of request and I complied, lifting my book off my lap for him to take and further inspect.

"Yeah. I figured I'd try to draw some people I knew." I smiled as I turned around in my chair to face him more. I caught Sydney giving me a knowing smile and eye roll. I shrugged in her direction. So what if I was talking to a cute guy who showed an interest in my ability? Knowing my luck, that's all he was interested in.

"But you drew two little kids." He held it up more and ran a finger over one of their faces. "You must know them very well to do something this good from memory. Judging from the look in this little one's eyes, he's quite the little troublemaker." He smiled and looked away from the book at me.

"Well, yeah, they're my brothers."

His eyes widened a little when I said that. "Brothers? Well, now I can see why they're so cute! There's a definite family resemblance." I felt my cheeks flush and caught Sydney raising her eyebrows out of the corner of my eye. "You must spend a lot of time with them to draw them this good from memory."

"Not really," I admitted sheepishly. "I've been living here for two years and don't get to see them much aside from pictures. They're staying in London this week so I'm definitely going to spend as much time with them as possible."

He smiled and looked down at the drawing. "What are their names?"

I peeked over the book and pointed. "That one, is Kayden. He's three. And the one with the troublemaker eyes? That would be Ian. He's six."

"They're both really cute." He smiled and took the pencil that I had left in the crease between the pages out, twirling it in his fingers. "Do you have a favorite out of the two?"

I shrugged. "If I do favor one over the other it's for different reasons. I love them both equally."

"I see. That makes sense." He twirled the pencil and looked at my, smiling. "Do you mind if I draw in here? Seeing both of you at work just makes me want scribble on something."

"Yeah, just turn the page." I didn't mind. Sydney had drawn in it without asking many times and several other friends had some of their doodles on previous pages. "Make sure to sign it. That way I know who drew it."

After a moment he closed the book and handed it back. "Not my best work, admittedly. Especially in comparison to yours."

"I'm sure it's just fine." I smiled and put the book in my messenger bag after looking at my phone for the time. Sydney just rolled her eyes at me again, obviously aware of the flirting happening between us. Or at least from me. "Well, I should probably be going. I'm Zoey by the way. It was very nice to meet you… um…"

"Jim." He held out his hand and I shook it. "It was a pleasure to meet you as well. I'll see you soon then, Zoey." His voice seemed to trigger something inside me when he said my name. But what it triggered I wasn't sure. It was almost as if I'd heard him say my name before.

I had dinner later that day with my family, making plans for the next couple of days with them before they left. They would go on a tour and the women would have a shopping day tomorrow. After that, I made plans to take time with Dad by taking him to Whitechapel. What better place to bring a cop than to the site of one of the most famous serial killers? I also promised the boys that I would make special time to finish telling my story to them.

"Are you sure this is Sherlock we're talking about?" John asked after I got off my shift at the coffee shop the next day. He had stopped by to check on me and we sat at one of the tables inside.

"Yes. He really did that. Surprised me too."

"But… Sherlock? Why-ever would he do something like that?"

"I don't know. He needed a distraction to pick the lock." I shrugged, finding John's ability to bring what had gone through my brain during the kiss out into the open rather amusing.

"But he kissed you! Sherlock Holmes, the heartless analytical mind that avoids any sort of emotion…"

"I get it John. It was very out of character but you have to admit, he does put on one hell of a show when he wants his way."

"Don't I know it." He shook his head and smiled. "He's cried once, you know."

"No way." I grinned. "Our Sherlock brought to tears?"

"Well, he did it to get some information out of a supposed victim's wife but yes."

"Too funny." I got up and walked with him to his home at Baker Street, being partially on the way to my flat. "Is Sherlock in?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes, letting me inside. "Yes but do take to mind that since the case is pretty much closed that he's fallen into a bit of a slump."

As I walked inside their living room, I saw what he had meant by "slump". Sherlock was, in fact, literally sitting slumped on the couch in his robe and pajamas. His hair was more ruffled and wild than usual and he was glaring at a smile he had painted on the wall, and from the looks of it, had shot it. He raised the pistol and fired at the poor painted face as I screamed and covered my ears.

"Sherlock! The wall again? Mrs. Hudson is going to throw a fit again." John sighed as he rushed over and took the gun from his hand, handing it back to me. I wasn't sure where to put it so I stuck it in my bag for the moment if just to get it away from unpredictable Sherlock.

"It's just a wall." He grumbled, looking over at me. "You may think I'm a heartless man but I wish another child would turn up dead. I've had no luck with anything to find Moriarty's pattern for the disposal sites, including Melissa." He stood up, stepping on his coffee table as he walked across the room to a map covered in pins and strings.

I went and stood beside him and looked at two parallel strings connected to four pins, one tied around either end. "I'm sure there's some way to connect them." I picked up some more string and wrapped pieced around each pin. I them proceeded to move the string across from one pin to the other, crossing the strings in every way possible.

After a moment of doing that, I stuck a pin in the center of the crisscrossed threads. "See? There are tons of ways to connect them. Now you just have to eliminate the pathways that won't work."

Sherlock seemed to perk up slightly at the challenge as I sat down on their couch to watch him. I pulled out my sketchbook to try and capture his enthusiasm and opened to the page Jim had drawn on.

It was a strange little drawing of a little man which I assumed was him, holding a very strange looking object that almost looked like a gun but it seemed more harmless than that. He had written something above it that I hadn't noticed before.

"Meet me for ice cream? Your place?"

I shook my head at his peculiar way of attempting to ask me out. Not many guys would have opted to ice cream. Most would have said a drink or coffee. Perhaps he suggested it due to my younger siblings?

My pocket buzzed and I answered my phone and headed out the door, waving at John who waved back. Sherlock didn't notice as he started pulling strings off the board.

"Hey, Dad. I was just on my way over. Are the boys ready for tonight?"

"You'd know a lot better than I would."

"What are you talking about?" I walked down the stairs and out the front door, stopping a moment later.

"You came and got them already. Or at least your friend did. He said you had a special surprise for them and that you were taking them for ice cream after he dropped them off at your place. Zo? Zoey are you there?"

I was frozen in the middle of the sidewalk as things began to click. I hadn't asked anyone to pick the boys up. I never made any plans to take the boys for ice cream. I also realized when I looked at the map back in Sherlock's flat, that my apartment was in the same area of town that I had place the pin.

Ice cream. My place…

"I'll see you soon then, Zoey." The voice echoed menacingly in my head.

"Oh, my god… Moriarty…" I started walking in the direction of my home as I tried not to break out into a complete panic. "Dad, listen to me. Okay? Call the police; tell them there's been a kidnapping. And Dad?" I picked up my speed, finishing the phone call before I broke out into a full sprint. "Tell them they'll need Sherlock Holmes."


	13. That which You Cherish

Chapter Thirteen: That which You Cherish

I sprinted down the sidewalks of London, trying with every step to go faster. I nearly ran into several people but kept going. I couldn't afford to slow down, not with what was at stake. My hip felt like it had been stabbed and my chest tightened but I knew I couldn't stop, the pain would pass eventually. My lungs were burning and my mouth was dry as quickly skidded to a stop and entered the apartment complex. I ran up the four flights to get to my apartment, the door already open a crack. I stood outside the door for just a moment, warning bells sounding in my head, all the warnings Dad had given me over the years flooding forward. But this time, for the first time in my life, I didn't listen to them.

I pushed the door open slowly with my arm, scanning the room as it came into view. Everything looked exactly like how I had left it, except that now I could see a figure sitting on my couch with my brothers on either side.

I took a step inside and the man looked up from the book he had been reading, the same book that Sherlock had read when he had stayed with me that night. He looked harmless enough as he smiled and closed the cover quietly.

"Enough of that story for a while, okay boys?" He leaned forward and set the book down on the table in front of him, keeping his dark eyes on me. He was nicely dressed for a home invader, wearing a nice fitting suit with a dark tie. His hair was calmer now, neatly combed instead of the styled mess it had been when we had first met. "Sister's home."

"Jim…" I breathed, still trying to recover from my sprint. I felt surprisingly calm as I stood in the doorway, seeing my two brothers unharmed beside their kidnapper. I didn't move from my spot due to the fact that another wave of caution had hit me. I didn't know if he had booby trapped anything or what he would do if I got closer to them.

"Do come in. Make yourself at home! After all, this is your sanctuary." He smiled at me, although it looked sweet, his eyes were hard and cold. "I was just reading these little men one of your fascinating tales. You really should finish it. I would be very interested to see if the knight defeats the evil wizard."

"What are you doing here?" I took a step forward as I felt my heart quicken again after returning to normal from the run. The adrenaline had kicked in now.

"Close the door." He said in a sweet voice, motioning behind me before draping his arms over Ian and Kayden's shoulders, leaning back into the couch. "Now lock it." As soon as the only method of escape was blocked he jumped up, grabbing each of the small hands beside him. He stood calmly in my living room, holding the hands as if he were a caring father; which upset me for some reason.

"What do you want?" I took another step closer and then to the side so I was directly in front of him. Ian's eyes searched mine for answers as Kayden's showed fear and desperation.

"Well, at first I just wanted to scare you, to make you back off. Sherlock is the only one I was really interested in. But then I thought, maybe this could be fun. I'm bored so why not try it? I chose children to show to everyone that he's really not as heartless as they would believe. That's his fatal flaw. He actually cares for those pathetic sods whether he realizes it or not; even just the tiniest bit." He turned his head slightly as he spoke. His voice was still calm, almost playful as he continued.

"But then you came along; just some stupid girl who had a heart for children. That's right…. You had a heart. Sherlock turned to you when he needed to actually feel something for them. He began to listen and rely on you to help him feel like he fit in. You became his heart." He growled the last sentence and his sweet face turned into an icy glare.

"Then why go after them?" I said, almost shouting at him. I didn't like the fact that he was playing nice around them, luring them into a false sense of security. "If I'm the one you want, why take them? If you wanted to hurt Sherlock through me…"

"Because you're his heart!"He shouted suddenly, making me flinch and the boys jump. I could see Kayden try to pull away as Moriarty's hand squeezed his little fingers tighter. "You are what makes him human. You are what makes him realize what pain or love is. It's because of you that they're here!"

"Joey…" Kayden pulled at his hand, trying to free himself as Ian kept an eye on Moriarty, no doubt making sure that Kayden went unharmed.

"That's right.. 'Joey'… It's because you feel for Sherlock; feel all those emotions in his place. It's because you care for these care for them more than anything in the world. The best way to truly destroy Sherlock is to destroy those closest to him. I'm going to destroy you. I'm going to break his heart."

"Let them go!" I took a running step forward, stopping when I saw a red light draw across the floor and stop in the middle of my chest.

"You didn't really think I came unprepared or unarmed did you?" He chuckled, once again playing with my mind by sounding sweet. "Come now, Zoey, I told you before that I wanted to play with you. You have to stay for the whole game."

"What if I don't want to play your game?" I had my hands up to show I was no threat as the light remained on me. "What if I give up and say you win?"

He shook his head and grimaced. "Well, things don't work that way. No no no…" He let go of Kayden for an instant, pulling a pistol out from under his jacket, pushing him over to Ian as he released him as well, pointing the silencer in their direction. "You have to play the game right." He stood so casually, his body facing me but his arm extended to the side, aiming for his small targets.

"Moriarty! Stop this! I don't want to play!" I yelled as my eyes darted to the two children huddled against the bookcase. Kayden was crying as he clung to his older brother. Ian's eyes darted between the two adults, trying his best to hide his fear but he was failing.

"Too bad. I'm giving you no choice." He snarled as he moved his gun from side to side slowly, eyes locked onto the boys. "Which one did you say was your favorite?"

"I told you, I don't have one." I took a deep breathe to stay calm and attempted to assess the situation. At the moment, he had the upper hand. He had a sniper trained on me and his own gun aimed at my brothers. I was unarmed and stood little chance as long as I remained on the defensive.

"I don't believe you…" He said in a sing-song voice, smiling. "I'm sure that if you were given a choice to save one, you'd rather see one alive over the other."

"You're sick." I growled, my hands clenching. "You're really going to make me pick which one you kill?"

"If you don't, the game ends and I chose for you. Maybe I'll decide that you don't like either of them and shoot them both…" he shrugged and looked over at me, his mouth set in a hard line. "Best hurry…"

"I won't do this." I shook my head, feeling my body start to shake. My blood was rushing and all I could focus on was Kayden's crying and the look of fear in Ian's normally courageous eyes. "I can't…"

"Tick.. tock…" Moriarty moved his gun one way than another. His voice was soft once more, his personality changing from cruel to playful once more. His changes were throwing me for a loop, messing with my head. I wasn't sure which face he'd show next or how I should react to it. "One way or another, I will obliterate the little princess' fairytale world. She will lose either her brave hero or her precious little prince. No matter what, tonight I will destroy Sherlock's heart."

I looked over at Ian and gulped. "You're my brave knight. You've always come to the rescue of the princess…." I could see Ian was trying to absorb everything that was happening. He didn't quite understand what was going on but he was aware of the danger they were in. Kayden was too young to full grasp the situation but he knew that he was scared. "Kayden…" I whispered, making him look up at me, tears streaming down his rosy cheeks that I had loved to kiss so often. "My sweet little prince… always looking for an adventure of your own...Both of you always making the princess smile..."

There was a commotion outside my door, making me look back towards the secured lock. "Zoey!" John shouted from the other side as the handle shook. I could hear him curse and his shoulder slam into the wood. "Sherlock, help me!" My heart leaped into my throat when i realized that Sherlock had figured it out. I didn't know if Lestrade had gotten a hold of him yet or not, but either way; he was here.

"Don't get distracted! You're still playing!"

The door buckled slightly on the next body slam and I looked back quickly at Moriarty when he shouted at me. My chest was pounding as I began to breathe harder, my body feeling the emotional stress. The wood cracked on the third attempt at entry.

"Zoey!" Sherlock shouted as the door began to give way under their combined force.

"Zoey…" Moriarty chirped as he raised his eyebrow, waiting for my answer.

The door broke and Moriarty glanced at the two men who had fallen with the door only for a moment before returning to the boys. Sherlock and John both jumped up, John holding a gun of his own. Sherlock reached to grab my arm and pull me away but stopped suddenly, realizing the situation at hand. I could feel the heat from the laser on my chest practically burning through my shirt even though it wasn't.

John aimed for Moriarty but more lights appeared, covering their bodies, more snipers waiting just outside my windows.

"And here we are again." Moriarty smirked. "I'll be with you boys in a moment but first I need to hear Zoey's answer to my question. She has a very important choice to make. Which one do you chose?"

"I chose…" I paused as I took in my littler brother's faces once more. Both were so precious, so playful and full of life.

"I choose…" They deserved to grow up.

Moriarty's gun moved down, resting on Kayden.

They both deserved to live!

"Neither." I took a step forward; arms outstretched and locked eyes with him. "I chose neither. You can have me."


	14. Choices

Chapter Fourteen: Choices

Moriarty raised a brow, intrigued by my answer as John and Sherlock stared at me, dumbfounded.

"What did you say?" Sherlock asked quietly, questioning my sanity as I took another step towards the man with the gun.

"I said: he can have me. Torture me, kill me, do whatever you wish. Just let my brothers go."

Moriarty lowered his gun a bit as I kept walking towards him, slowly, watching my step and trying not to make any sort of move that would be seen as threatening and endanger the boys further. In an instant, his hand shot out, gripping my wrist and pulling me into his chest.

He had spun me when he had grabbed me, my arm now pinned across my chest as he moved the gun from my brothers and pressed it against my temple. The barrel was cold and hard and hurt as he put a little more force behind it than was needed. I winced and tried to pull away.

"Zoey!" Ian ran towards me only to have Moriarty use his foot to kick him hard in the chest, sending him back into the bookcase, several books toppling off the shelves from the impact.

"Try anything like that, little man, and your sister won't be able to save you." He growled, pressing the gun into my skin further. I cried out in pain and swore that any more pressure would crack my skull. "Not that she can save you now anyway… Try as she might."

"This has nothing to do with the boys, Moriarty!" John shouted as he looked at Ian who was rubbing his head from where it had wacked the hard wood of the bookcase. Kayden was hugging him and crying harder. The poor kid didn't know what to do, but at least he had his brother beside him for a little comfort.

Sherlock stood watching all of us, just observing. I could see the gears in his head turning but at the moment he couldn't do anything.

"True. They may just be here as the bait to lure Miss McCarron here, they may be pawns in order to psychologically torture her; but they have a role in this game! This is my game and you're all going to play!" He shouted as several lights left John and Sherlock, moving to glow menacingly on the frightened boys faces and chests.

"I chose! I gave you me! Let them go!" I tried to turn my head to look over at my brothers, eyes welling with tears of frustration at being lured into his trap. He had assumed that I would gladly give myself over. Now I was his hostage and his victim at the same time. He was going to hurt me, I could tell. He was going to destroy me like he had promised to get to Sherlock.

"I never said I'd let them go if you handed yourself over." He cooed into my ear as he moved the gun off my temple and instead pressed it to the back of my skull. His arm remained firmly around me, pulling me even closer now. "Handed yourself over on a silver platter just for me… I'm touched."

"Let me go and I'll show you just what kind of touching you deserve!" I growled as I struggled, his arm locking me in even tighter.

"All in good time, my dear." He ran his nose along my forehead and smirked. "You found quite the treasure, Sherlock." His voice had changed yet again, sickeningly sweet and playful. "She's sweet and feisty all wrapped into one. Smart too." He glanced over at Sherlock and grinned. "She figured out where I was before you."

"Simple observation." Sherlock said coolly. "She realized that in the center of the pattern was her home. Taking the pins from the map and connecting them all, they crossed right over her. They say x marks the spot. You formed this plan right after you saw her, creating this whole 'game' around her."

"You're still not getting it, Sherlock. It was still all about you. You let someone get close to you." I could feel his breath on my face. It was hot and smelled slightly of bourbon. "That was a very nice move at the warehouse, by the way. Quite the elaborate distraction for such a small goal…"

"It seemed to be prudent at the time." Sherlock's voice got a little deeper, madder. My eyes widened as I looked at him. I was praying that he wouldn't give into Moriarty's taunts. I hoped he wouldn't make it personal. He would be going against what he had told me. If it gets personal, you stop thinking properly.

"I wonder why you would choose that distraction, of all things. It's so… emotionally charged." I felt his hand move slightly down my body as his fingers hooked under my shirt. I twisted my body away from him as much as possible, my arm still pinned and gun still to my head.

"Don't touch me!" I fought only to have his hand slip under the fabric of my shirt, his nails clawing their way up under it. I winced and tried to ignore the burning sensation against my skin as he scratched me. He was taking skin with him, I could tell that much. He wasn't holding back now that he had easy access to cause me pain.

"She's been feeling everything for you, Sherlock. The fear, the pain, the anger, sadness, caring… She's been feeling it all! Here you are, acting like a man made out of stone while you shove the problems and terrors of the world on a fragile little girl! You took away her innocence! So now, so am I!"

He dug his nails into the soft skin of my torso deeper and I cried out. When I did, my body tensed and my head tilted back ever so slightly, which was just what he wanted. His hand shot out of my shirt and up to grip my chin. His fingers were wet and sticky with my blood as he twisted my face towards him, forcing his mouth onto mine. His tongue slithered into my mouth, making me grunt and want to gag as it swirled around before I managed to bite him.

He jerked away and licked his bleeding lip as his hand locked around me again. I could feel the blood he had left on my face and could taste the bourbon I had smelt on his breath. I felt sick and my stomach ached from where he had clawed my skin away.

"I hold your heart in my hands, Sherlock!" He laughed as he kissed my temple and I jerked my head away from him.

I suddenly remembered the gun which we had taken from Sherlock was still in my bag which was slung over my shoulder. I wriggled an arm free and reached for it. I felt the cold metal against my hand and grabbed it. I pulled it out quickly and swung my arm around so that it was pointed at Moriarty.

He reacted quickly, faster than I had expected and twisted around so that he now had both guns pointed at me. The one he originally had remained in place while the other was tilted up towards my chin.

"Stubborn little thing, aren't we?" He kissed my cheek again and I closed my eyes tightly in frustration. "Careful. Playing with guns is dangerous. I thought your father would have taught you that."

John looked over at Sherlock whose normal expressionless face was gone and appeared mad. He was looking at me, or more specifically, my shirt which was now beginning to soak up the blood cause by Moriarty's nails. He was thinking still. His eyes darted over to Ian who had recovered and was holding Kayden, who had stopped crying and was now just watching with wide eyes.

"If it's true that I have no heart and that she is the one who possesses enough of one to share, it's a waste on her part to attempt to lend her feelings to me. I have no use for them." Sherlock's eyes were the coldest I had ever seen them and I shuddered slightly.

"Yet you're here because you care about her. You knew where I'd be and you came because you were worried I would do something terrible." Moriarty's head rocked back and forth slightly, reminding me of a reptile on the prowl. "If you don't care about her, then why?"

His eyes looked over Sherlock who showed no change at all and then he suddenly laughed. "Oh, I get it now! You truly are just like me!"

"I'm nothing like you, aside from our level of intellect." Sherlock replied calmly, a dark shadow falling over his face. John could see it too.

"You're only after her heart. You care nothing about this girl's life. You only care about what you can acquire from her. If she becomes of no use to you you'll lose interest. It's not her at all. It's her humanity." He laughed and tossed the second gun onto the couch behind him as the first one moved to point at Ian. His free hand wrapped around my neck and his fingertips applied pressure.

"Same choice I gave her. Which one lives and dies? The same goes for you, Johnny boy."

John raised his gun, despite the snipers aimed at him. "Why are you giving me a choice?"

"Because it's a game! The more people that play, the more fun it gets. Now, there are two of you, and three of them. You each pick one. That way it's all fair." He smirked as he said the last bit, as if him playing fair was a joke.

"What makes it fair?" John asked, his gun remaining where it was.

"You each get to pick one, and then I get the one that's left. You save two and I kill one." He grinned and squeezed. "I must say, it'd be rather a pity to have to shoot Miss McCarron after all. She has a certain fire I admire in a woman. I bet she'd make one hell of a mother... If she lives that long. Perhaps if you don't chose her I'll just take her home with me. If I truly get bored I could try my hand at impersonating Jack the Ripper. Maybe I'll destroy her heart by taking away what she cherishes most..."

Sherlock's eyes locked on me and I stared back at him, silently pleading with him not to choose me. If he knew me one bit as well as he claimed he'd know that out of the three of us, I would choose my brothers.

"I refuse to sink to your level of childish games." Sherlock remained still, like he was carved out of marble.

John gulped, feeling he knew where Sherlock was going and kept his gun pointed. "Sherlock…"

"I won't choose any of them. I won't let one die when there's another option."

"Oh, really?" Moriarty's eyebrows rose as he squeezed my neck tighter. I let out a small choking gasp, making him smirk. "And what would this other option be?"

"I chose all three. You're not going to kill anyone." He took a step towards us and Moriarty's playful smile suddenly vanished, replaced by a terrifying mask of rage.

"I will kill whoever I want! Game over, Sherlock!" His gun aimed at Ian and I reacted instantly.

In one quick moment I heard Ian and Kayden scream as Sherlock ran forward. I felt Moriarty release my throat as I grabbed his arm and twisted it around, burying the barrel of the gun into my torso as the sound of a muffled shot managed to echo in the room.

My shirt felt wet and I was suddenly aware of how much my stomach hurt.


	15. Perspective

Chapter Fifteen: Perspective

Moriarty released his hostage the moment he pulled the trigger, her body going limp in his arms. His side ached from the bullet going through Zoey and into him. The stupid girl was smart enough to redirect the shot and to wound him, sacrificing herself. The annoying children started screaming and crying once more and he wished in that moment that he hadn't tossed the other gun aside. He took a step to the side as John fired at him, only grazing his shoulder.

Still, it was closer than what he would have allowed.

Another moment later, he was tackled to the ground by Sherlock. "Ooh! Careful, careful! Shouldn't your attention be focused elsewhere?" He grunted, still taunting as John had a shot just barely miss his foot, jumping back. Ian and Kayden screamed as another shot hit right above their heads.

"You have another choice to make… Capture me or save them?" He sneered as Sherlock sat over him, gripping his tie tightly as he was forced to choose.

"This isn't over." He growled as he let Moriarty go and got up. Moriarty walked calmly over to what remained of the door and straightened his tie before giving a playful wave.

"No, it certainly isn't. I look forward to doing this again sometime." He smirked; glancing around the room at the mess he had made of their emotions then turned and walked down the stairs. "Give Zoey my best!" His hand rested on his side, which was screaming at him as he kept walking normally so as not to give his injury away. "Tell her I'll return the favor someday. If she lives."

Once he was gone, Sherlock looked down at the boys who were still sobbing and John who was hopping over the coffee table to the girl lying on the floor. He then turned his attention to Zoey.

Zoey was on her back, the gun by her side as she gasped and clutched her stomach. John quickly pulled his jumper off over his head and pressed it against the blood which was spreading across her shirt and causing an ever-growing pool on the floor. He pulled it off after applying some pressure to examine the damage.

John pulled her shirt up and saw the deep scratches running up to her ribcage and the bullet hole which was pouring blood. John pressed the jumper against the wound again and pushed down on it. Zoey winced and gritted her teeth.

"It hurts…" She said quietly, crying as she put her hands on the jumper as well.

"I know, but you're going to be just fine…" John said, only guessing since he couldn't tell the full extent of damage. He felt like he was back in Afghanistan and pressed on the injury more, trying to stop the bleeding. "Just stop talking and concentrate on breathing. Make sure you stay awake, okay?" She nodded and took a deep breath, trying to hold back the pain.

She was pale and was breathing quickly, she closed her eyes and John patted her cheek. "Wake up."

"I'm so tired…" She mumbled, her head drooping slightly.

"Stay awake!" John shouted, making her open her eyes. They were only open for a little bit as they started drooping closed again.

Sherlock suddenly took her face in his hands, shaking her head slightly. "Zoey. Stay awake."

"But I'm so tired…" She mumbled, her words almost slurring together. John pushed down on the wound and she cried out, flinching and opening her eyes. "Ow! It's hurts!"

"I know it hurts. And it will keep hurting for as long as is necessary." Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her as hers looked around, seeming lost and vacant. "Look at me. Look nowhere else. Look at me."

Zoe's eyes slowly focused on his face and she smiled slightly, still looking partially vacant. "You have nice eyes…"

"Yes, I know." He said bluntly, making her scoff slightly even though it hurt. "Just keep looking into them. Stay awake."

"I'm so tired…" Her eyes closed and Sherlock reached down, poking at the bullet wound firmly with his fingers. She cried out and gave him a dirty look.

"Stay awake or I'll do that again. You have to stay with us." Sirens could be heard in the distance and Ian's eyes lit up with the familiar noise, running for the door to get help. "Don't you dare go to sleep. "

"Kayden..?" She mumbled, eyes closed but trying to open as he shook her head again.

"He's right beside us." He jerked his head towards the little boy standing just behind him, hiccupping from crying so hard as he watched.

"Ian…"

"He's outside getting the police and medics."

"How are they..?" Her eyes were closed but she was still talking. John was holding one of her hands and when he squeezed it she squeezed back.

"They're fine." Sherlock said flatly then thought for a moment. "Because of you." He attempted to sound more caring, making her smile.

"Good…" She nodded and sighed deeply. "Good…"

John squeezed and she barely responded. He squeezed her hand again, harder this time. "Zoey?" He squeezed a third time, getting no response as Sherlock patted her cheek.

The paramedics rushed in, Ian standing against the broken doorframe as he watched them run over to Zoey. Sherlock remained beside her, holding her cheeks in his hands as he shouted. "Wake up. Zoey? Zoey!"

Sherlock followed the gurney outside and to the ambulance. He wasn't sure why, but as he walked outside with Kayden in his arms, he felt slightly anxious. He suspected it was because, even though dying is a normal factor into everyday life, the person whose life was at risk was someone he knew. Someone he considered his friend. He also suspected that another factor into his unusual connection to her was due to the method of her injury.

She had inflicted it upon herself in order to save those she loved. She had put herself in that amount of danger in hopes that, even if she died, they would live. From this Sherlock cemented his opinion that emotions are dangerous and only cause trouble for yourself and others around you.

John went in the ambulance with Zoey, leaving Sherlock there with Ian and Kayden and the responding officers. A second ambulance had arrived and was now tending to the boys, which weren't cooperating as well as had been hoped.

Kayden refused to release his hold on Sherlock as the medic tended to him, although there were no apparent injuries. Meanwhile, Ian was jumping off the hoods of police cars with the orange blanket they had given him for shock wrapped around his neck like a cape. He hadn't sat still long enough for them to check the lump on his head but given his current condition, they assumed he'd be just fine.

Lestrade walked over and put his hands on his hips, watching as Ian ran by in his new superhero persona. Sherlock's arms were beginning to ache from holding the clingy toddler but whenever he tried to put the kid down he just cried.

"Never saw you for a babysitter, Holmes." He said, grinning slightly as Ian circled his legs.

"I'd rather prefer not to make this an occupation. However, John thought it best if they didn't go along with their sister." He grunted and adjusted Kayden in his arms.

Lestrade motioned for him to come closer and managed to free the detective from the child, now holding the boy instead. "That would be best. John said he'd keep us updated. How was she when they left?"

Sherlock's eyes went dark as he pictured Zoey lying in her own blood, pale and losing consciousness. "If they can attend to the damage in time her chances look good. However, it appears that something vital may have been injured from the shot, not to mention combining that with shock.. So until we hear from John…"

"It's not like you to worry." Lestrade said quietly as Kayden played with his badge. "This Moriarty guy really got to you, huh?"

"He didn't get to me. That's the problem. He got to Zoey." He glared at Lestrade's lack of understanding. It wasn't that he cared for her or even wanted her. It was the fact that now he felt like he needed her to feel anything close to human. "She's far more valuable to this world than I am. I may be the smartest person in all of England, if not the world but the world would likely rejoice with my passing. However, without Zoey I feel the world will become a rather dark place indeed."


	16. Confessions

Chapter Sixteen: Confessions

My eyes fluttered open as I let out a tired and painful groan. Uncomfortable tubes were taking up residence in my nose and my arm ached when I moved; probably because a rather large needle for an I.V was currently attached to me. But those discomforts only temporarily distracted me from the stabbing pain in my torso. I suspected, however, if it weren't for the rather intimidating needle supplying morphine or whatever, it would probably be a lot more painful.

There were several balloons and flower bouquets by my bed and I smiled slightly, grunting as I moved to sit up more.

"You really shouldn't do that you know." A deep voice said coolly from across the room. Sherlock sat on the ledge of the windowsill, looking out at the city. "You could tear the stitches and start bleeding profusely like you did all over your apartment. By the way, your carpet is ruined."

I chuckled slightly as I lay back down on the almost too soft pillow. "That's what you're concerned about? The condition of my carpet?" Laughing hurt but it still felt good to relieve the stress I had gathered lately. "What happened?"

"Well, after attempting suicide and trying to take a rather unpleasant and unwilling companion along with you, you went into surgery for three hours and have been unconscious for two days. Your family would have liked to be here but I assured them that you wouldn't want them to have to reschedule their flight due to a little impulse reaction. However I did give them my word that I would be informing them of your present condition each day."

"Oh, I see." I nodded, still rather groggy but took Sherlock in stride. The drugs were making it surprisingly easier. "So everyone turned out okay?"

"If you can call emergency surgery and being in a coma 'okay' then, yes. Everyone turned out fine." He turned away from the window and looked at me, arms crossed over his chest. His coat and scarf that I was so attached to was nowhere to be seen. However, he was wearing a rather delightful plumb dress shirt which fit him rather nicely.

"What about Moriarty?"

"He escaped, but not without injury. He tried to hide it but I could tell that you and John had both inflicted painful, but unfortunately, not fatal wounds. I'm sure we'll be hearing from him sometime in the future." He smiled slightly as he stood up and walked over to the side of the bed. Once there his smile quickly vanished. "Now, as for you…"

"Me what?"

He gripped the side bar as he leaned over, nearly nose to nose with me. "What you did was extremely careless and I would have expected more caution from a policeman's daughter. You could have been killed! You nearly were!" I leaned back as he scolded me, surprised at his genuine anger at me. He reached out and grabbed my face, cradling my cheeks in his hands. "Do you have any idea how worried we all were?"

As he held my face, our noses almost touching as he shouted, I was suddenly aware of yet a third annoyance that I was attached to: a heart monitor. A rapid high pitched pip echoed through the room, causing him to stop and look at me, calming down a bit.

"Have I upset you?" He asked, letting go and tilting his head. "Because something that I did agitated you."

"I'm not upset." I shook my head, embarrassed that everything I felt was now audible for anyone in hearing range. "I just wasn't expecting to be scolded first thing after a near death experience." I was quiet for a moment then bit my lip. "You were worried?"

"Yes, we were." He sighed and scratched his head. "John was quite flustered when we got home. I think it was all the blood on his hands. Your brothers for a while were quite beside themselves as was the rest of your family. I must say, I thought I'd seen distressed officers before... He nearly threw a doctor across the hallway in order to see you. There really is some sort of connection between a father and child that I shall never understand."

"It's called love, Sherlock." I said, shaking my head due to the fact that it was obvious to me but so foreign to him. "It makes you act like you normally wouldn't. It's why I shot myself!" I chuckled and winced, grabbing my side.

Sherlock reached over and adjusted the I.V drip, allowing more medication though. I felt it kick in and rather enjoyed the feeling of my body going warm and tingly. I looked at Sherlock, who was now growing foggy and twisting slightly as though I were looking at him through water.

"Is that better?"

I nodded and settled down some more. "Mm-hm… Hey, Sherlock?"

"What?" He still sounded a bit snippy but he was calming down.

"Were you worried?"

"I already said that we were." He huffed, turning and looking back at the window.

"But… were YOU worried?" Most everything was in a blur so all I had now was feelings of floating. The drugs had kicked in full force. No doubt I would be drifting off to sleep soon, which was probably a good thing to help me recover.

"I try not to let my emotions cloud my judgment over a given situation." He replied before looking down at me. I sighed and closed my eyes. His voice suddenly changed, taking on a softer tone to it. "But, I have grown rather attached to you, Zoey. You're one of my few friends; and a close one at that. I will admit I did feel something akin to rage and anxiety when you stopped responding back in your flat."

"You were concerned…" I mumbled, smiling a little. "Just admit that you had feelings for once…"

His hand brushed my forehead, moving my hair out of my face. No doubt I would need to wash it soon if I hadn't taken a shower in two days. I opened my eyes and saw his pale irises watching me intently.

"You have beautiful eyes…" I smiled, growing groggier. I would later blame all this on the drugs.

"You told me." He stated. "Back in your flat. Why you found it prudent to point that out of all things is beyond me."

"Because… I like your eyes." I yawned. "I like you."

He looked a little taken aback and confused. "Why ever would you do a foolish thing like that?"

"I 'unno…" I shrugged and closed my eyes again. "Love makes you act like you normally wouldn't remember?"

There was a long pause and his voice sounded further away, almost like I had cotton shoved in my ears. "Love is a luxury that rarely truly exists. There are different levels of attachment but love is one I shall never bring myself to understand. While I appreciate the sentiment, relationships are a luxury that I cannot afford at this time. I consider myself married to my work and…" He stopped and reached out, brushing his fingers across my hand. My fingers twitched and wrapped around his. "If I could feel love, I can't see why I wouldn't be attracted to you."

I smiled slightly as my head drooped and my hand relaxed, releasing his fingers.

"Get some sleep, Zoey. Enjoy the high you're being allowed and sleep."

Surprisingly, during the next week Mycroft came to visit. He still, for some reason, toted around that umbrella with him wherever he went.

"I see that you're recovering quite well given the circumstances."

"I guess. I've never been shot before so I'm not one to judge."

He smiled and twirled his umbrella on the floor, as was his habit. "You apparently have never been subjected to such copious amounts of morphine. According to Sherlock, the two of you had quite the intriguing conversation while you were sedated."

"Conversation?" I scratched my head and tried to think back. It was all just a clouded mess.

"Yes, and he was quite fascinated with the different effect they had on you in comparison to other doped up patients."

"What do you mean?" I was holding the gift that Melissa had dropped off, hearing that it was now my turn to visit the hospital. Holly had cleaned it up for me before they lent it to me. I absentmindedly rubbed the fabric floppy ear of the dog.

"Well, after talking to you, he went into other rooms to conduct his test. There were several people who were reveling in the ecstasy while others were a bit more hostile. The pregnant woman was none too happy and threw a lamp at him." He chuckled and I just stared in disbelief.

"What kind of conversation did I have with him?"

"Apparently, my dear, it seems that you fancy my poor brother. And while he may be well informed about everything else in the world, love has always managed to escape him."

"Oh…." I groaned and hid my face in Melissa's dog, whose name I had been informed was Cedric. "That's embarrassing."

"Frankly, my dear, he believes it was due to the drugs and has put no merit into what you said. To him, you were just in a stupor where you would have said you loved whoever happened to be present. Including that Moriarty chap."

"There's no way I would be that drugged." I scoffed.

Mycroft looked at me and then gave a rather strange smile. "Yes, well, either way, I can see that you're one of those resources that my brother will be turning to more frequently than he himself is aware." He stood up and walked to the door, looking back at me when I asked him a question.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he needs you."


	17. Heartbeat

Chapter Seventeen: Heartbeat

I wiped my brow as I finished packing up my apartment, having to relocate after the whole Moriarty fiasco. The carpet had in fact been ruined and it had given me a very strange sense of my mortality as I had stared at the dark brown stain of my own blood. Sydney had just gone downstairs with one of the heavier boxes on account that I still had issues lifting heavy objects.

I sighed as I looked around for anything that I had missed. Arthur was wandering around, almost in awe at the new space that had been opened for him since the furniture was already gone. I spotted a notebook which I had missed and picked it up.

It was the one that Moriarty had read to Ian and Kayden, the same one that Sherlock had flipped through that night. I found myself opening it and sitting down in the middle of my living room. Arthur rubbed against me and I smiled as I leaned over so he could touch his nose to mine and rub his face against my cheek.

"I'm glad to see that you're doing better." A voice said, making me look up, hands still stroking Arthur's soft fur. Sherlock was standing in the now repaired doorframe. He almost seemed amused by the way I was playing with Arthur as the cat walked onto my lap and started trying to climb onto my shoulder.

"As well as expected." I wrapped my arm around the troublesome mass of fur and pulled him off, holding him in my arms as I sat on the floor, looking up at Sherlock. "What are you doing here?"

"John suggested that I come by to make sure that your recovery was going well." He said bluntly and made it sound almost as if it were a chore. "I wanted to make sure you don't have any infections or…"

"No, Sherlock. I don't have any infections. The doctors made sure of that before I left." I got up and shook my head. If I had let him continue I probably would have had to hear all about different medical phenomena that I could have been exposed to. "And tell John thanks for his concern. I'm doing just fine." I put a hand on my stomach and felt the fresh scar under my shirt, knowing there was an identical one on my back.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm just fine." I looked up and saw a slightly look of concern on his face. "I may need some more therapy for all the stress you and Moriarty caused… Mainly Moriarty… But I'll be back to normal in no time at all."

"I don't want you to return to normal though." He frowned slightly. "That would mean you would go back to the Zoey I first met. You would go back to guarding yourself in everything you do in order to keep yourself from being hurt. Since I've met you, you've evolved in front of my eyes. You stepped out of your comfort zone several times in order to help others; including myself."

Sherlock hesitated for a moment then reached out a hand and touched my shirt where the scar lay underneath. "You started out as a scared girl with a caring nature to a strong woman who's not afraid to fight for what she cares about. To be honest, I rather like this Zoey."

I was touched by what he had observed; pointing out the change I had gone through that I had been unaware of. "I'm not the only one who's changed, you know."

After giving me a quizzical expression, I smiled and took a step closer, wrapping my arms around him. He tensed like he had last time, still not used to the closeness. I held on this time and closed my eyes as I rested my ear against his chest. "There it is…"

I pulled back after a bit and put my hand on his chest, looking up at him and smiling. "It appears that Sherlock Holmes has acquired a heart."

"Quit spouting nonsense." He scoffed as he pulled my hand off of him and leaned down, looking me in the eyes. "I don't have one. You're taking care of that for me."

I smiled, knowing that my time with Sherlock was going to diminish now that the case was over. Although I was sure he wouldn't have much need for me unless there was a case, I would always stay close by when he did have the need to call. Or rather, text.

After he left, I picked up the notebook once more and pulled a slip of paper from my pocket. It had been a note that had been attached to a beautiful bouquet delivered to my room while I was still recovering. I hadn't told Sherlock about it, mainly because for the time being it didn't see any reason to worry.

I slipped the note into the notebook, reading it over once more before I closed the cover and put it into the last box, taping it shut.

"I'll see you soon, Zoey. –Jim"


End file.
